


Boys of Summer

by TheWriterChick



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Boys of Summer, F/M, Here goes nothing!, IT WON'T BE GOOD AND I'M SORRY FOR THAT IN ADVANCE, Jane's around more at the end, M/M, Multi, OT3, Oh also EVENTUAL SMUT, Summer Fic, and so is Thor, based on a graphic, summer loving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:16:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriterChick/pseuds/TheWriterChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But I can see you-<br/>Your brown skin shinin' in the sun<br/>You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby<br/>And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong<br/>After the boys of summer have gone<br/>- Boys of Summer</p><p> <img/></p><p>It was the summer before grad school. Darcy expects to spend the entire time on the beach working on her tan. The two guys taking her under their wing, the kisses on the Ferris wheel, and this strange but best-thing-she's-ever-had friendship? Well, that's just a perk. (AU, no super-serum/Avenger powers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This began after the lovely **Melifair** posted a Summer Lovin/Fourth of July pic set on tumblr a few months back, which is the lovely cover art above!! It sparked something and I'm only just realizing what it is now. So much thanks to her for the inspiration
> 
> Thanks to **ligayaharukadiwata** and **carrkicksdoor** for beta'ing and giving me notes. It was a right mess to start, so I appreciate your sane minds sifting through it all!
> 
> Also thanks to the lovely ladies of Darcyland who make such great fic for being such a wonderful support group. I don't want it to ever change! (And you gals totally know who you are... basically if I'm poking/bothering you a lot, you're one of those gals :P)
> 
> oo.... and also... I blame **jadziabear** for starting this whole OT3 nonsense to begin with. (kidding. I love her for all this.)

**JUNE**

 

The first time she saw Bucky, she was pouting over spilt Nerds. 

And when Darcy was stuck in the boiling afternoon sun, hopping back and forth on the porch of her aunt's house in the Hamptons, trying to get the candies out of her shirt before they stuck to her in the humidity, she knew she looked like an idiot. 

And it didn't help that he was shirtless and looking so, so hot. 

 

\------------

 

Darcy was already in a sticky situation to begin with back in May, weeks before she ever saw Bucky. She had just finished her political science degree at Culver and would be starting at NYU in the fall. The situation was that she:

a) had to be out of her dorm before summer,  
b) couldn't move back home because her mom downgraded while Darcy was away at school and now there was legitimately no room for her and her dorm room full of crap and  
c) NYU dorms didn't open until the first week of September and her student loans wouldn't be available until mid-August. She couldn't even bank on her loans to living in a freaking Super 8 motel for three months. 

That was when her Aunt (born and raised as Tanya, yet as soon as she married a wall-street banker she became Tawnia) began asking Momma Lewis about Darcy and offered for the girl to stay at her place in the Hamptons. 

Fuck No was Darcy's first reply. Her aunt was quite pretentious. Her priorities were messed up--a husband by 25 was more important than a degree. There was an epic fight two years ago at Thanksgiving where Darcy suggested that a woman at 25 could have both a husband and a degree. Tawnia gave her the biggest sneer. 

Thanksgiving didn't end well that year. 

But then again, as proven, Darcy knew how to speak up when needed. And over the years she had worked hard on her talent of disappearing during family events. Disappearing in the Hamptons wouldn't be that hard; she had miles and miles of beach to escape to. 

And really, with everything else, did she have a choice? 

So she packed up her cruddy Toyota Echo (which had a broken air conditioner) and had to drive through Eastern America when those states were experiencing the worst heat wave of the decade. The leather steering wheel got so hot at times she'd burn her fingers trying to stay on the road. It was still sweltering nine hours later when she drove into the East Hamptons and made her way to the large beach house on the outskirts of town that belonged to her aunt. 

The house was gorgeous, in a modern way; every bit of the house was square and modular but it was crisp white and didn't stick out much in comparison to the other houses along the street. Except for next door; there was a little cottage, barely noticeable through the trees, but it looked much more like what Darcy would call a beach house. 

She kinda wished she was staying at the cute house next door. But this one suited Tawnia. Seemed... like it was trying to be too perfect. It's perfectly alright to have your own opinions on how your life is supposed to go, but don't look down your nose at folks who do things differently. Obviously her aunt's ideology and how Darcy's mom lived her life meant they didn't exactly get along. 

... Tawnia probably hated that house next door. Probably thought it was ugly.

As soon as Darcy slammed the car door shut, the front door of the house opened, and Aunt Tawnia came out to greet her. 98 degrees outside and she's glowing like a peach, Darcy thought bitterly for a moment as she could practically feel her own makeup melting down her face. 

Tawnia obviously noticed and didn't bother hugging her. 

Darcy came inside with her only one of her suitcases (strategically packed as her 'must have' bag so everything else could stay stored in the car) and at first, she believed this setup would work fine. The house was spacious enough that the family wouldn't be living on top of each other. The air conditioning was on full-blast and worked just fine. The kitchen was well-stocked. The tall ceilings would help tone Tawnia's nagging voice, at least a bit. Or maybe Tawnia knew this and would just talk louder as a result. Either way, Darcy was ignorantly hopeful that she'd be fine here. 

But then she was taken to the massive conservatory-esque kitchen, and Tawnia's maid handed her a glass of fancy lemonade after Tawnia barked at her. And Tawnia started rambling on about her daughter/Darcy's cousin Trish (thoroughly mentioning the new man she was dating and expertly avoiding the topic of her last engagement falling through) without asking how Darcy was. 

And then Tawnia's two ten-year-old twin boys skidded into the kitchen, chasing each other over a box of Nerds before they knocked it into the air and sent the candy all down the front of Darcy's tank top and the counter. And then they laughed and ran off as the maid got a broom without question.

This was a horrible mistake. 

She could've lived in her car for four months, right?

She felt the candies stick to her skin, which was still dripping with sweat from the drive, so Darcy excused herself. But she didn't duck into the bathroom--she made a beeline to the door that lead outside. Outside was the ocean. Outside was the breeze and the crisp salt in the air that would calm her nerves. Outside would be her sanctuary. 

And it was while she was digging the candies out from between her boobs, scooping the blobs out and dumping them into the sand below the spacious deck attached to the house, muttering, "Ew, gross," pink and purple colours streaking her skin and bra, that she suddenly felt like she was being watched. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and her Spidey-senses told her the danger came from next door.

It was that little cottage she had spotted when she arrived. It was half the size of her aunt’s house (barely) and had all the cute, folksy charm that a beach house should, complete with a backyard pool and garden. Standing on the porch of that house, obviously taking a break from landscaping the backyard, was a very shirtless, very cut, very handsome guy. 

Darcy froze like a deer in headlights. 

Her hand was still down her Strokes tank top.

The guy smirked at her, and held the towel he had draped around his neck tightly, but did nothing more other than enjoy the view. Of her. Boobs almost out of her shirt. Hand down it. 

Darcy wanted to enjoy the view of the view of the hot gardener--she could only assume that was who he was, because of the wheelbarrow and the garden hose and the dirt around him--but she panicked and ducked inside instead. 

 

\---------

 

"I'm sorry, but there's really nothing we can do about it, hon."

Darcy flopped back on her bed in her room--one of the many 'spares' in the house--after she had showered and after she had eaten dinner with the family, which had been fairly nauseating. She ran one hand through her damp hair, finger-combing the knots out, and held her phone close with the other. "I know, mom," Darcy sighed at her. "I just need to feel frustrated for a bit. If I don't let it out, it'll get all pent up and explode."

She could practically hear her mother smile patiently through the phone. "That's okay, dear." Of course it was. Momma Lewis knew exactly what happened to Darcy when she wasn’t allowed to vent on a regular basis. 

"I've only been here for one night--not even a night--for one meal," Darcy snarked in a low voice, "and we've already covered how nice those girls at NYU dress, in their skirts and blouses. They want to take me shopping." Darcy rubbed her hand protectively over her CLASH muscle teeshirt.

"And what did you say?"

"I wanted to say 'fuck no,' but I said I'd be busy." 

Her mother half laughed and sighed because this was always Darcy's typical logic. "Well, at least there are lot of things nearby. You could bike into town, find a bookstore... there's the boardwalk with the carnival games and rides... who knows, maybe you'll find some friends there." 

All Darcy could picture was the smirk and the shaggy brown hair from next door, and she only hoped anyone else she might meet  during the summer wouldn't be introduced when she was in such a compromising position again. 

So she blushed and changed the topic to when the hell was her mom going to come out and visit?  

 

\-----

 

The first time she meets Steve, his dog ran after his ball and stuck his nose in her crotch instead.  There's really no other way to describe it.

 

\------

 

Darcy lasted a week before a snide comment finally got on her nerves. She had done her time around the family--they were giving her free room and board, so the least she could do was socialize (then she could tell her mother that she tried)--and her cousin Trish had brought up the trip she was taking to Cabo with her boyfriend for the Fourth of July weekend. Tawnia insisted that there was no way Trish was missing her big party (apparently Tawnia's Fourth of July party kicked off the Hampton's vacation season. Darcy tried to not roll her eyes) and that she was just going to have to bring her new boyfriend to the house. Mexico could wait. 

Tawnia had commented on all the guests who would be coming--her husband had invited a ton of new young bankers from his firm to the party, eager to bring them into the social circle they would eventually lord over one day. 

But Tawnia was the opposite of subtle. Tawnia should have just put up a billboard in Times Square announcing, " _MY NIECE IS 23 AND NOT ENGAGED. ANY TAKERS? SHE'S WORTHLESS WITHOUT A RING."_

Darcy just smirked and pointed out that since her mom was coming out for the weekend, they'd be spending all their time together. And who would want to meet a girl who clings to her mom?

Which had only led Tawnia to say that if her mother had a head on her shoulders, she'd be just as urgent to find Darcy a man ASAP. 

Darcy had spent sunrise to sunset on the beach every day for the next three days.

She had run out of books and moved on to the stack of magazines she had bought during her roadtrip. She'd read through them already, but things were getting dire. She needed to bike into town soon to get to the bookstore. Unfortunately, that would mean asking the family where a bike was, and she was still shunning them. Like a grownup and all. 

Suddenly she sighed and flung her magazine dramatically to her side and simply laid back. It was so warm and the breeze was just enough to keep the burning heat at bay; maybe she could just take a nap out here. The last year of her degree hadn’t offered her much sleep... maybe she could catch up on it now.

That was when she heard the thump. 

Darcy raised her head from the sand and looked around. She spotted a football maybe twenty yards from her. It was one of those small, cheap kind hardware stores gave out for free during 'door crasher' sales. 

And suddenly a golden retriever, who had obviously come over in search of the lost ball, came into view but saw her, found her infinitely more interesting, and ran up faster than she could sit up to prevent him from sticking his nose in her crotch.  

"Jesus!" Darcy yelped and shoved the dog's head away as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. This only led the dog to lick all over her hands. She heard someone yelling, probably at the dog, but all dogs did that. Trish and Tawnia would have had a fit; but Darcy loved dogs. They just surprised her, that's all. 

After the initial surprise and embarrassment faded, she was able to sit up on her knees to give him a proper scratching behind his ears. "Hi buddy!" she said to him in her most playful tone.

The voice that was shouting before was coming closer, and she understood what was being said. "Duke! Bad dog!" 

"He's fine!" Darcy exclaimed before looking up, too busy scratching Duke and enjoying his wagging tail to notice. Duke let his tongue hang out of his mouth and in that moment, she could have sworn he was smiling and obviously didn't feel bad at all. "Just surprised me." 

"He knows better, though." 

The authoritative voice had her look up and holy hot crap on a cracker, what was with this neighbourhood? How come all the hot guys were in the East Hamptons and how come they all came dangerously close to seeing her private bits? 

The speaker was tall and towered over her--granted, Darcy was only 5'5" so everyone usually towered over her without trying--with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Yet in spite of his full size, nothing in his tone or body language was intimidating; his full mouth was pulled back in a sweet smile and his blue eyes crinkled nicely at her.  He just happened to be blocking the sun from where she sat and the golden halo around his blonde hair made him look more godly and left Darcy more than a little dumbstruck.

He reached over and caught Duke's gaze, holding his head between his hands. Big hands. "No. No jumping."

Obviously well-trained, Duke knew he was in trouble, so he closed his mouth and promptly sat on the spot. 

"He usually behaves," the owner said, "except when girls are around." He rolled his eyes the way a parent would at a disobedient toddler.

Darcy tried not to grin. Was that a pickup line? No, it would only be a pickup line if he had added gorgeous or beautiful before girl. All he was doing was making a statement. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that a guy that looked like him really didn't need a friendly dog or a cheesy line to pick up girls at the beach. 

"It's really not a big deal," Darcy repeated, gesticulating for no reason other than to get the wiry feeling out of her system. "I like dogs." 

The man smiled, but it looked a bit strained, as if he was still embarrassed about it. After an awkward pause, he said, "We'll just--"

"You don't have to!" 

The man raised a brow. He shouldn't have looked more attractive by doing that. 

Obviously her mouth was running away from her. Geeze, girl, calm down. She smiled awkwardly before reaching a hand to Duke--who instantly took this as her accepting his unspoken apology and rushed to her. "I love dogs. I had one as a kid, a Jack Russell Terrier. Haven't had one in years. I miss them."

After a moment, the guy didn't comment on what she said. He just smiled.  

As she scratched Duke's belly--making him lose it and roll all around on her blanket--she tried to watch the guy out of the corner of her eye. If she knew anything from her experience of men, they tried to make a pass. They tried to use a line. They at least tried to get a good look at her cleavage, but this guy was so concerned about offending her from his dog... it shouldn't have been this funny. Maybe she'd been around too many college boys. Too many who thought they were "really nice guys" when really they painted themselves as such to get away with being jerks to girls. They were usually the same jerks who claimed they were nice-guys-who-got-friend- zoned.  This guy was nice for the sake of being nice. It shouldn't have been so rare. And she shouldn’t confuse politeness as flirting. 

Slightly embarrassed, she made up her mind to just be a decent person and get over it. She managed to look him in the eye and offered a hand. "I'm Darcy." 

"Steve." He grasped her hand with warm fingers and squeezed. 

She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. 

"I'm renting for the summer," he gestured, to her surprise, at the little house next door. 

Darcy thumbed over her shoulder. "I'm staying at that monstrosity for the summer." 

A barely repressed laugh escaped Steve's mouth. At least she wasn't the only one in the neighbourhood who thought the modular Picasso piece was silly. "I guess we're neighbours then."

"Sure are," Darcy hugged her knees to her chest. 

Steve kneeled down and scratched Duke's belly for a second before patting it. Duke took this as the time-to-go signal and rolled back onto his feet, all the while staring at Steve with complete adoration and affection. Darcy hoped she didn't look like that. 

After a pause, Steve said, "I could bring him around if you want some dog time."

Darcy giggled. He sounded so awkward saying something that sounded so silly, she just had to laugh. "I'd like that." 

Thankfully, her laugh didn't put him off; he smirked and snapped his fingers at Duke, who took off running back towards the house. "I'll see you around?"

"Hope so."

And then she started rethinking the misconstruing politeness bit, when he got halfway down the beach--all while she watched his gorgeous ass in those shorts--and he suddenly looked over his shoulder back at her. 

Yep, maybe she was thinking the wrong thing. 

Probably.

 

\---------------

 

Tawnia's Fourth of July party was fast approaching, which meant the house was crawling with party planners and decorators and 'Damn it, Darcy, those are for the party! Don't use them!'

Heaven forbid Darcy try to use a napkin to clean up a mess.

Then the weather got bad for a while. Darcy started suffering some harsh cabin fever while the party planners were in a tizzy. What if it was still raining on the Fourth? They could put up a tent, right? What if the wind picks up and the tent flies away?

Darcy suggested that it'd be Tawnia's most entertaining party. The glares of the party planners showed how they disagreed.

She helped Martha--Tawnia's maid--instead. Martha was actually a pretty sassy old lady when Tawnia wasn't around, and was quickly becoming Darcy's new favourite person.

She hung out with her cousin Trish once or twice--because the girl is the same age as her, so Darcy should at least make an effort to be closer to her, right?--and they talked a little bit about college, guys Trish was dating... but never anything too deep. Darcy probably noticed it more than Trish did, but they were quite different girls. Two completely different upbringings. Maybe they never would completely click.

Well, points for trying.

She did feel kind of bad though when on the first day of sun, Darcy booked it out of the house before saying hello to anyone. For a while.

But then she heard a familiar barking from next door and forgot all about it.

Duke was running around in his back yard, but his owners were nowhere in sight. Darcy pouted a little bit.

 _C'mon, Darce,_ she chided herself. _Steve was just a nice polite guy. Who happened to check you out a bit when you left yesterday. Hanging around Trish got your mind a bit warped--come back to reality._

 _.... but Steve_ did _say I could borrow his dog._

So she jumped into their yard, found Duke's football sitting on the porch, let the dog out of the yard and played fetch with him on the beach for the entire day. When she locked him back into his yard before the afternoon was up, Duke may or may not have been wearing her navy-and-white-star headband around his neck.

 

\--------

_up next.... **Fourth of July**_

**\------**


	2. JULY 4th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's the kick-starter party to the Hampton's summer season happening at Tawnia's house. Or there was the casual pool/birthday party happening next door. Which would you choose? 
> 
> Pro-tip: next door has some hot military buffs and an adorable dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to everyone who thought the last chapter was a one-shot; AO3 was acting up and wouldn't let me edit it back. Anywho, crisis averted :-) I expect this to have about 5 chapters altogether, all about this length. So enjoy the madness!
> 
> I feel the need to credit **shinykari** somehow because I've never heard of the whole 'dudebros in fedoras' label until I began following her tumblr. So thanks for ingraining that into my vocabulary, hehe.
> 
> Also SUPER thanks to **typhoidmeri** as she let me bounce some ideas off of her while I was struggling with this. Queen of Darcyland!  <3
> 
> Enjoy, everyone 
> 
> _*****No beta this time. All mistakes are my own. Don't own anything Marvel. You know the drill._

\-----------

 

JULY 4th

 

\----------

 

The Fourth of July was upon them faster than anticipated, and for some reason Tawnia's house was the place to be in the Hamptons. People were showing up at three in the afternoon in their dresses and diamonds and Darcy had to pinch herself because this was a beach house in the Hamptons and _not_ the Oscars, right? Either way, Darcy had heard Tawnia's party was a big shin-dig but she hadn't expected it to be true. Turns out that half of the New York banking industry came out to this circus of catered food, ice sculptures and fourteen-karat personalities.

Don't get her wrong, the ridiculousness came with a few perks. The whole thing was catered and truth be told, Darcy liked trying fancy food, especially when it wasn't on her own dime. After an hour of sampling all the hors d'oeuvres from the wandering wait staff, she now knew that she loved stuffed mushroom caps, kinda liked steak with creamed herb cheese and raspberry coulee, and thought caviar was overrated (that was a given, though). She also had a few moments where she was able to hide to the side of the party with Trish--who, even after growing up with this, got overwhelmed from time to time and hid when she could--and they would comment and giggle on even the most ridiculous outfits.

(Who in their right mind wears suede in July _and_ to the beach?! And why is it puke green?!)

Unfortunately the cons fought tooth and nail with the pros, and won out more often than not as the party wore on. The first, and most disappointing, was that Momma Lewis had car trouble and ended up not coming out for the party. Darcy was already reaching her wit's end and had been counting on her mother to recharge her after these terrifying first weeks. But hey, the front axle breaks on the old car and Momma Lewis didn't have the money to fix it in time for the party. What can you do?

The second: because it was a ridiculous party, a ridiculous dress was required. Darcy had been dragged into town the day before, thrown into a dressing room of a snooty boutique store and given a bunch of clothes she'd never consider wearing voluntarily. In the end she had a flared black and white skirt, black tights, a blue peplum top and a black blazer. She felt uncomfortable in them and kept pulling the fabric this way and that because it just wouldn't sit straight on its own. Eventually she knew it would never sit right, not until it would lay on the floor in the corner of her room.

Trish--the girl in charge of dragging her cousin out to get an appropriate outfit--had tilted her head and said, "This suits you. I don't think anything else here would."

A whole day later, Darcy is still trying to figure out if that was a compliment to her style or not.

In addition to the uncomfortable-in-her-own-skin sensation, whenever Trish wasn't hiding, Darcy had doubts about how uncomfortable her cousin really felt with this crowd. The girl seemed to fit right in with the banking bunch; she laughed at the industry jokes, playfully touched arms... she was a spitting image of her mom. The super hostess. Minus the air of condescension.

But the worst thing about the party?

... _Half of the New York banking industry was there._

And bank yuppies were either talking about numbers or staring at her boobs (which weren't even out in the open--there was a panel of sheer blue fabric covering most of her décolletage) and she was so, so done with everything just a few hours in.

Tawnia, of course, was in her element. All of her friends were socialites but really, for all the pomp and sparkle, Darcy didn't recognize a single person at the party. They could be all Real Housewives of Wherever, just minus the roaming TV crew. No one was really famous. Who knew how they had their money.

And frankly, who cared?

And then Darcy felt a pang of sympathy for Trish and how she was expected to grow up.

And then she saw Tawnia pointing a batch of yuppie bankers--fully eligible bachelors for Tawnia's spinster niece--towards Darcy.

And then she needed some air and may have knocked over a dental-floss hieress in her hurry to get some.

The party didn't just take over the inside of the house; it sprawled out all over the porch, too. So when Darcy managed to get outside, she still couldn't catch a break. Which is when she realized none of these fancy-heel-wearing guests would dare go down to the beach.

Darcy managed to sneak away easily--no one was paying attention to the girl opening the gate to the stairs that lead to the beach. She reached the bottom step, her lips pulling into a grin as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of sea air. The tide was in and the salt in the air was a glorious scent.

There was enough electricity running at this stupid party that the beach was pretty well lit up. Darcy stared at the white foamy waves crashing into the sand and imagined how good the surf would feel on her feet.

High heeled shoes suck. Hey, maybe she will put her toes in the water for a bit, tights be damned.

Actually, _tights be damned._

While she was still in the cover under the porch, she reached up her skirt and peeled her tights off her sweating legs. Her eyes never left the ocean ahead of her. It wasn't like she was going to go night swimming--she's not a moron--but the white waves crashing on the shore, chased by the darkness that led out into nothing, and each crash was a brilliant symphony of _white noise_ and it was just _so gorgeous_ \--

And then she heard barking.

It was a familiar bark.

Quickly, she closed her legs.

Sure enough, a big ball of golden fluff was running her way across the beach. Darcy grinned and stepped out from the cover of porch to spread  her arms wide and welcoming. "There's a good boy, Duke! C'mere!"

The dog didn't even need to be told _once--_ he hopped and slobbered his way up to Darcy. She didn't care that he got drool on the sleeves of her blazer; she was too busy scratching his big fluffy ears and falling more and more in love with him. Duke, obviously, was completed enamoured of her. It only took one day to fall in love.

"Are you the one who kidnapped my dog the other day?"

Now that voice was unfamiliar.

Coming from the direction of the house next door was _that guy_ from the backyard and Darcy tensed up. The last time this guy saw her was when she practically flashed him in an attempt to get the candy out of her bra, and she may not have gotten a great look at him, but this was definitely the guy she almost gave a private show to.  

Now that she had a chance to stare, though... well damn it, he was as attractive as she thought. His brown hair was blown about by the sea air but it looked fantastic. Unfortunately was wearing a shirt today. Long-sleeved, too, which seemed odd with the summer heat. But there was no denying his broad shoulders or his trim waist, the dimple in his chin and those startling blue eyes. Or that shit-eating grin.

The tension gave way to confusion. "Maybe. I had permission.... is this _your_ dog?"

"Joint custody, _"_ the guy explained. "With my buddy Steve."

Ah.

Darcy smirked. "I met Duke and Steve out here the other day."

"Oh, _you're_ the girl from the beach," the guy suddenly grinned as all the pieces came together in his head. He stuffed his hands in his pockets when he reached her, keeping a comfortable distance between them. "Small world."

"So it is." Darcy nodded, if only politely. She couldn't manage any more than that when she still felt embarrassed from her first impression. Plus, what had Steve been telling this guy about her? "You... do you both live next door?"

He nodded. "Friend of ours lent it to us for the summer."

Darcy hummed, impressed. "Nice." He got to share a place with his friend and didn't have to live with a crazy aunt. Lucky ass. 

He looked up at the porch, ten feet above them, and gestured to it. "You're staying with your mom all summer too?" Darcy narrowed her brows, confused clearly written on her face; the smirk faded from his own and  he elaborated. "Tanya? Tawnia?"

Darcy barked out a laugh. "Ha! No, _no way_ , that woman is _not_ my mother. That is, unfortunately, my aunt."

The smirk that spread across his face was felt all the way down to the base of her spine. "That's good, because she tossed her wine glass at Duke once when he wandered up the deck by accident. Which is why I was surprised when he ran this way when I tried to take him for a walk..." He nudged his leg against the mutt, looking down and taking the opportunity to let his eyes appreciate her curves on the way back up to her face. Then he had the balls to grin. "But now it makes sense."

Darcy only grinned back. He was a not-so-subtle flirter, but it still hadn't reached a point where it got on her nerves. The boys in college had always crossed a line with their flirting, entering territory where 'confidence' is called 'swag' and it _always_ annoyed her. Nothing worse than over-confidence. But this guy wasn't like that. He danced near the line. It was funny to watch. Plus she had a feeling that she could call him on his shit if she needed to, and he would back off.

"I'm James."

"Darcy."

They shook hands. He didn't hold on as long as Steve did. 

"So," his eyes flicker up to the party above them. "Not having a fun time?"

"Ugh," Darcy rolled her eyes. "I just needed to get away. Take a breather."

"Me too--we're so busy setting up today that I forgot to take this punk for a walk." James reached down and scratched at Duke's ear affectionately before setting those blue eyes back on her. "You're welcome to come next door."

It wasn't until Darcy leaned around him and looked in the direction of his house that she realized what he was even inviting her to. The soft jazz upstairs and the roar of the waves had drowned out the slow thump of dance music coming from James and Steve's place. She couldn't quite see the yard  out back but she saw people and lights all over the porch.

This could be a douchey college party. It looked too familiar; cool from a distance but gross and judgemental up close. Was that really much better than upstairs? She pursed her lips with thought and doubt.

"Plus, we've got your headband. You could come get it."

Darcy blinked, paused, and then realized what headband he was talking about and gaped when she realized it wasn't in its rightful place around Duke's neck. "That was a gift!"

"And it's also Steve's birthday." James smirked. "You can be my gift  to him."

Darcy laughed wryly. "I'm not that easy, punk."

And he smirked, amused by her sass, just like she suspected. But she wasn't completely turned off by the statement--it was playful and she had a feeling he'd never really be that kind of guy. There was an air about him that made her feel.... safe.

Kind of like how Steve did.

"... it's his birthday?"

Suddenly those baby blue's went to full-on Bambi mode. "He insists it's a Fourth of July party, but it's also happens to be his birthday. C'mon. Please?"

How could she say no to that face and that offer?

So she left her blazer, shoes and tights on the porch and reminded herself to get them when the night was over. 

 

\--------

 

Con: Darcy was definitely the youngest person there.

Pro: No dudebros in fedoras in sight.

Everyone looked like a working-class American out at the beach for the weekend to get away from the city. These were her people. Instead of her eyeing everyone at the party, most of Steve and James'0 friends were eyeing her--not in a creepy way.  More with cautious concern. _Wasn't she too young to be around them_ , they asked? One of them even jokingly asked to see her I.D.

But once she told her first dirty joke and people laughed so hard they were spilling their beers, no one questioned how much she fit in.

Steve was completely surprised; he greeted her with a hug, which felt great, being wrapped in his big arms. He told her she looked fantastic but she kept pulling at her dress, feeling overdone compared to everyone else's teeshirts and jeans. He was pulled away pretty quickly but he smiled so hopefully, like a boy scout, that she figured she'd make an effort to see him later.

She met Natasha and Clint, who work with the boys. She found out that a lot of the people present were military buffs, although Natasha and Clint weren't very open to talk about their work (which made Darcy suspect they were high-level spies or something and they instantly became cooler in her eyes).  The muscle and buzz-cut that belonged to Steve suddenly made a lot more sense.  She also found out that no one called James _James_ : they called him 'Bucky.'

Darcy only slightly sputtered her beer. As she wiped her chin on the back of her wrist, she tried not to laugh further but she had to ask. " _Bucky?_ "

"James Buchanan Barnes," Clint elaborated. The man was sitting on an inflatable chair in the pool, wearing a sombrero he found inside and sunglasses--it was the middle of the night?--and swirling his beer 'round and 'round in his bottle. He was the epitome of a party guy. The tone was serious but it was hard to take him that way as he waxed poetic. "Childhood nickname that stuck. We didn't start it. Steve was calling him that before any of us were."

"It was always easier to undermine him in front of the commanding officers when you called him Bucky," Natasha said. The redhead was smirking and Darcy could totally see her running around in army fatigues, humiliating any man she felt like. Darcy liked her even more.

"So," Darcy cleared her throat. Maybe this was pushing the line? She barely knew these people. Didn't stop her mouth from running with it, though. "Are... are they going back? Over there, I mean?"

Clint shook his head. "Honourably discharged--they've got cushy jobs with the UN starting this fall. And I don't blame them," Clint tipped his head back onto the bright purple rubber chair and kept floating about the pool. Now that his eyes were averted, she took the opportunity to oggle his thick, veiny arms. _Hot Damn._  "I like the thrill of being out there, but what those guys--"

"Clint."

The warning tone from Natasha made them both look over like they'd been caught. She simply shook her head sternly--just the once. It was all Clint needed to shut up.

At that moment Clint had floated to face the pool edge and Duke took the opportunity to jump from the edge of the pool into his lap. Of course the physics of it all didn't work out and they both fell into the water. Duke yapped and paddled around to the edge and Clint sputtered and tried to fish for his glasses and Darcy and Natasha laughed and it was as if the awkward moment never happened.

"I take it the party next door wasn't going so well?" Natasha asked once Clint and the dog got out of the pool. She glanced at the porch next door.  

It was then that Darcy realized how perfect a view Bucky really had of her the day she had her hand down her shirt. Yikes. Her aunt's porch really was _right there._ A few of the guests she was avoiding were staring at the loud, garish gathering with disgust. 

Darcy shook her head to clear that thought from her mind. "It's too much for me," Darcy shook her head and stared out at the ocean. "Not my crowd."

"Not from here?"

"North Dakota, originally," Darcy elaborated. "Just graduated from Culver. Going to NYU in the fall."

"Congratulations," Clint slurred from the ground. (He collapsed on the ground once he got his drunk ass out of the pool and hadn't bothered to get up.)

Darcy giggled and nudge his foot. "Thanks."

His foot kicked back lamely in response.

"I didn't know you graduated."

Steve had appeared,  looking clean cut as usual and sat down beside Darcy (after side-stepping around Clint's body without a second thought, as if this happened often).  Darcy only nodded and Steve offered his congrats. "Taking the summer off, then? Here?"

Darcy did her best not to grimace. "Depends."

"On?"

"How long it takes for my family to drive me mental. I might be living in my car before the end of the month."

Natasha smirked and Clint laughed and Steve chuckled. "It's got to be weird being back when you've been on your own for so long."

Darcy nodded solemnly. "It is."

"I get that." Steve adjusted a bit in his seat and leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Just finished my last tour."

Guilt and shame flushed her cheeks--here she was whining about family time and he was trying to adjust being back in the real world.  She knew she had taken too long to respond and it was awkward. What could she say?

So Darcy awkwardly drew back a swig of her beer. Once she cleared her throat she managed to mumble, "So I've heard."

Steve gave Natasha the side-eye but she was perfectly cool, looking away with boredom as she nursed her drink. 

"All I know is you're a bunch of military buffs and Natasha used to humiliate James by calling him Bucky in front of his superiors."

When Steve laughs, he puts his all into it, and it made warmth spread all the way to her fingertips.  She tried to ignore whatever that meant.

He brushed his hair back with his fingers before looking down at his hands in his lap. "I'm glad we're out here, though. It makes getting used to things... easier. Kinda let stepping into the water gently instead of diving in."

Darcy regarded him quietly and the words were out of her mouth before she knew they were coming.

"I'm glad you're out here, too."

Steve turned to her with warm eyes.

She was seriously going to have to figure out why it lit her nerve on fire every time he did that.

  

\--------------

 

Their house was smaller but perfectly quaint--a typical beach house. Two bedrooms, a sunroom, a big wall of bookshelves, every other wall was covered in floral wallpaper, a quaint little kitchen, and while the closer-to-thirty people were playing beer pong on the dining room table, Darcy 'the kid' found herself drawn to the books. She read the old spines and recognized a few classics, pages curled from the sea air.

She was't alone at the bookshelf for too long; someone snuck up behind her.

"I wish I could say they're mine," Steve voice came up behind her. Darcy jumped a bit but he was staring at the books with a smirk. "But it means I won't run out of reading material this summer."

Darcy smiled. "I heard you're renting."

"Not even," Steve shrugged.

"How did you manage that?"

"Well," Steve shrugged and said everything like it was no big deal, "Turns out you can get free rent for a summer at a beach-front property when you save an arms dealer from being kidnapped in the desert in Afghanistan."

"... what."

Steve smirked at her shock and disbelief. "I'm not at liberty to elaborate further, but--"

"--But Steve was a total action hero," Bucky suddenly appeared beside them, wrapping his arm around Darcy's shoulders and squeezing tightly. He was a little tipsy at this point. Darcy stumbled when he swayed and his body weight rested on her, but she couldn't help giggling and he didn't let go, so she wrapped an arm around his waist to help him as he spake the ballad of Steve.

"He swooped in, saved the day like he thought he was Superman or something, and I flew the chopper out of there, and we saved the day. No international incidents, no loss of life..." Bucky suddenly held his beer up and pronounced, solemnly, "... ' _Murica_."

Darcy snorted.

Steve rolled his eyes, and Darcy could swore he was blushing. "We were doing our jobs."

"The army thinks we did _sooo good_ we were let out early and given cushy desk jobs," Bucky argued back. "Not that I like desk jobs, per say--"

"It's not a total desk job. We're still field agents."

"More of a desk job _than I_ would like," Bucky scoffed.

"Bucky."

And that's when Steve stared at him. It threw Darcy off--his gaze was warm and concerned, not something you would usually see between two best friends. Maybe this had been discussed before. Why was this a sore point? But it was all Steve needed to do--Bucky calmed down.

And then someone shouted that the fireworks were starting, and the crowd began moving outside to watch, and that meant Bucky dragging Darcy out with his arm around her shoulders. She ended up standing between her two neighbours as the fireworks went off in the distance, down the coast by the boardwalk, and everyone cheered and oo'd and aww'd and Duke barked like crazy.

Darcy sighed, feeling very peaceful amongst a bunch of strangers. How weird could that be? Maybe was was oversimplifying and romanticising the situation, but being dropped into their world--so less dramatic, so easy--... why would she go back next door? Ever?

(... besides the fact that all of her underwear and her toothbrush was still over there.)

Bucky squeezed her shoulder. It could've been nothing--maybe he wobbled from intoxication--but she looked at his fingers. That's when she noticed the skin was marred. How she didn't noticed... no, he was the only person on this warm night wearing sleeves. She noticed _that_ before. But his fingers were scarred horribly and the scars continued until they disappeared up the cuff of his shirt.

She stopped looking before she got caught staring.

Someone started singing _Happy Birthday_ (which Darcy found weird until she remembered that it was Steve's) and then Natasha was bringing out a cake, an ice cream cake, covered in dramatic American colours and HAPPY BIRTHDAY in sticky icing.

Everyone joined in, some of the guys closer to Steve were singing very loudly and dramatically and supremely off-key, and Darcy tried to join in but it was hard for giggles. Steve blew the candles out right when the firework finale began, and he was blushing right to his ears. It was adorable.

 

 ---------

 

Darcy finished her last bite of cake at the same time that the men of the party decided it was time to start a bonfire on the beach. Natasha took her hand and the pair walked out arm in arm to join everyone with the warmth and chatter.  

Walking through sand while inebriated was utterly exhausting, so as soon as Darcy reached the fire, she sat her ass down and didn't move. She watched someone break out a football and saw Clint and Steve wrestle over it. Natasha sat down with her for a while, and Darcy didn't realize it in her state of mind until later, but the redhead asked her a _lot_ of personal questions. Darcy had drunk just enough beer to not have any reservations (or filter) to any of the questions. She only hoped she didn't say anything too silly.

Natasha eventually stood up to go use the bathroom and that was when Duke came over, flopped in the sand beside her and rested his head on her thigh. Darcy grinned, stretched her legs out in front of her and scratched him behind the ear.

It had been a long time since she felt this comfortable.

Not just at a party but... in general.

 "Can 'rest fur a bit?"

Darcy looked up at the speaker and smiled--more as a question, not real consent--but James had already fallen to his knees, tipped over and positioned his head in her lap. Darcy had to laugh as he practically snuggled up to her thigh. It had been far too long since someone had been that close to her lady bits, but he reminded her of the dog sitting on her other leg. To them, she was warm, cosy and inviting... and moreover, there was a level of trust there. Trust in her. They'd only known her for a few hours but they trusted her.

She rested her hand on both their heads and ran her fingers through the fur/hair, scratching her nails against the scalp. Take a guess at which boy groaned?

Darcy pouted mockingly. "Are you tired, Bucky?" she cooed teasingly.

"Who the hell told you to call me that," he grumbled against her skirt.

"Uh, everyone."

"... damn it."

Darcy smiled and continued to pet both of the boys, and watched the crackling fire.

"Um, sorry about them."

A few minutes later, when James was dead asleep, Darcy was greeted with this apology and she looked up at Steve. Man, he really did tower over everybody, more so when she was on the ground.

"Don't apologize," she grinned cheekily. "Come, meet my new bitches."

Closer than she thought, she heard Clint bark out a laugh.

Steve rolled his eyes and fell down into the sand beside her. Duke was thankfully a good boy and moved to rest in Steve's lap. He carded his hands through the dogs fur and they sat comfortably.

"Did you have a good time?"

Darcy smiled at him. "A great time. Thanks for letting me come."

"I'm glad you came.... I'm glad the punk invited you."

Bucky mumbled in her lap and Darcy snorted again.

At that point Clint and Natasha walked up to the pair. "I think it's time to put Barnes to bed," Clint said. He reached down and helped get the drunk to his feet. Natasha watched (supervised) and Darcy had a feeling she started the rescue mission on her behalf, because now that Darcy looked around, the party was definitely winding down. People were slowly trudging back to the house.

Darcy looked back at her aunt's place. The lights were all out. The porch was empty.

"C'mon."

Steve's warm hand gripped hers and pulled her to her feet in one swift motion. "Let me walk you home."

Between being impressed by his strength and her inability to think of anything besides his warm hand, holding hers all the way back to her place, Darcy would sum the night up as the best Fourth of July she ever had. And she told Steve that when she reached her stairs, which he walked her right up to, like they were on a date or something.

And that gave her an idea.

He was so tall, that she walked up to the second step on the stairs before reaching for him. Steve raised a brow curiously and obliged her. She curled her fingers over the collar of his shirt, pulled him the last few inches closer so she could press a soft, warm kiss square on his cheek. 

"Happy Birthday, Steve."

 

\----------

 

"We missed you during the fireworks last night."

Darcy looked up from her bowl of cereal the next morning. Tawnia was in full hair and makeup already at 9AM and was staring Darcy down. Trish was still in her pyjamas (like Darcy was) and was also staring, but in a much more curious and amused way.

Darcy swallowed her last mouthful of Cheerios before answering as casually as she could. "Last minute invite to the party next door."

Tawnia did a double take. "Those guys? At the rental?" She said it like Darcy suggested running off with the circus for the night.

Darcy tried not to get her feathers ruffled. It was too early for that. "Yeah. Met them on the beach the other day. Saw them last night. They've got a dog named Duke."

Trish rested her head in her hands and asked with a cheeky grin, "Are they cute?"

Darcy couldn't help smirking but she kept her mouth shut. She settled to kicking her cousin under the table. None of it made the blush on her cheeks disappear.

Tawnia just rolled her eyes.

 

 --------

 

_TO BE CONTINUED WITH: **JULY**_


	3. Darcy's July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Passing the time becomes easier for Darcy. It also becomes more complicated and worrisome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY Y'ALL. DID YOU WAIT LONG ENOUGH?
> 
> I know, I'm a jerk--but hey, think of it this way. It's a summer fic so I took a writing break over the winter. Can't get in the summer mood when it's -40C outside with four feet of snow. (Damn you, Canada.) Anyways, thank you for your time and patience!!
> 
> Anyways: this chapter is for inkandash. She's the first one to read this story (she read some VERY rough notes way back in the day) and she's a good cheerleader :3

\--------

JULY 5

\--------

 

She saw Bucky the very next day when she was browsing the candy aisle in the grocery store.

Darcy wanted to get out of the house but didn't feel like lounging on the beach that day. She also didn't want to use any of the precious gas left in her car to get away (it was too early in the season to start relying on scarce resources). After she rummaged around Tawnia's garage for an alternative method of transportation, she managed to find an old bike buried along the back wall. It was mint blue with a white wicker basket and belonged on Pinterest. It was perfect.

It was probably a strange sight to see such a harsh looking woman on such a feminine device--not that Darcy wasn't curvy in all the right places, but she was wearing her ripped denim shorts and her torn Smiths tee-shirt and her hair was loose and wild---nah, she could care less. It was disgustingly hot outside and when the breeze blew over her heated skin, it made it all worth it. The haters can shut up.

The destination of today's field trip was Main Street. She had only spent an hour or so in the area when Trish had dragged her out the other day, so she decided to not have an agenda today. The whole point of getting out of the big city was to enjoy the easy charm and simpler way of life, right? (Even the Hamptons were considered simple if you compare it to New York.) Today was the day she would soak it all in.

Darcy had managed to find a bookshop in town and purchased a few vintage novels. She window-shopped the places she couldn't afford. She eyed the movie theatre with great interest (an air-conditioned building could be worth the price of a ticket) but decided to treat herself with some junk food first. Tawnia had some nice food in the house, there was no denying that, but sugary treats were scarce. Darcy would need a secret stash if she was going to survive the summer without murdering anyone.

She found the grocery store on the corner of the next block. It was while she was in the candy aisle, a bag of potato chips in one hand while the other hovered over her options on the shelf, that Bucky called her name.  

"Darcy?"  

She jumped at the voice and dropped her chips with a curse before pressing her hand to her chest. Once she saw who it was, she had to laugh. "God, Buck--you freaked me out."

Bucky smiled at her and started walking closer. He had a twelve-pack of beer in one hand and a basket of groceries in the other. "Sorry."

He wasn't sorry at all, but Darcy felt more than a bit embarrassed by her overreaction. "I'm not used to anyone out here recognizing me," she muttered lamely. She had been wandering about like she was in her own little world.

And then he had to tilt his head and smirk as he said, "Well, most of our encounters have involved candy... you should've known better."  

Oh, yeah. That time when she had her hand down her shirt.

Darcy couldn't stave off the wave of heat that rushed through her neck and cheeks, so she avoided his gaze and looked back at the candy. She did manage to mutter, "Jerk," but the most affectionate grin spread across his face and caught her attention.

He looked a little worse for wear, but when he smiled it didn't really matter. His hair was wet, probably from his morning shower, and even through that long-sleeve shirt, his arms looked magnificent. Why was he wearing a long-sleeved shirt on the hottest day of the year?  

Darcy eyed him, trying to be as judging as possible (because he deserved it), and asked, "Aren't you--" 

And then she remembered his hand on her shoulder last night and the marred skin and it hit her like a slap in the face. She quickly redirected her judging gaze to the beer in his hands. "--kind of over beer, after last night?"   _Nice save, you moron_ , she chastised herself. Of course he was covering up--whatever was wrong, he wasn't comfortable with it. Who was she to go bothering him about it? She tried her best to keep a straight face but her insides twisted.

Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly and replied as best he could. "Yeah, well... Now that the party's over, we're kind of out of... everything." He shrugged and tried to be cool. "What're you up to?" 

Okay, maybe she was in the clear. "Bought some books. Now making a crucial decision," Darcy gave him a very serious stare as she held up the two different candy brands. "Choose wisely--our friendship may suffer the consequences."

Bucky's eyebrows rose with surprise, and then he laughed, more than she thought he would at such a simple joke. But he gave each bag a speculative once-over, as requested. "Fuzzy Peaches. When in doubt, always choose Fuzzy Peaches."

Darcy's lips curled into a grin and she put the other bag back onto the shelf. "And now I know your favourite candy," she said triumphantly. Geeze, why did she do that? Creepy. Before she could let him read into it, she decided now may be the time to leave, but he cut her off.

"Did you drive here? I thought I saw your car at your aunt's place."

"I biked. The fresh air did me good."

"... do you want a ride back?" 

Darcy wrinkled her nose. "What about the bike?"

"I'm driving a Range Rover. Don't be too impressed--it belongs to the landlord, not us." Bucky tilted his head, trying to be as enticing as possible. "C'mon, Darce."  

Darcy chewed her lip for a moment. He was asking nicely. And he offered it up, too--it wasn't like she was begging him. Hadn't she told herself she was going to make today a 'me' day and invest in herself?

But there was something stupid about those pouty lips. Something that was more than a little intriguing.

"...meet you at the tills?"

Now it was his turn to smile victoriously. "Deal." 

A few minutes later she's sitting in Bucky's car, enjoying the blast of cold air seeping through the vents. No matter how strong a breeze, sometimes there's nothing that beats air conditioning.

Duke (told to sit in the back seat like a gentleman so the lady could have the front seat) kept sticking his big head between the seats. Darcy satisfied him by scratching behind his ears every chance she could. And then she realized...

"He's wearing my headband," Darcy spoke up, just to fill the silence.

Bucky smirked but didn't take his eyes from the road. "He likes it; he drags it around all the time. I figured since you gave it up and all, he may as well wear it--"

"I'm glad. It was a gift," Darcy cut him off and scratched Duke's ears. Duke panted affectionately, in that way only dogs can.

"... Sorry about Steve's birthday." 

That came out of nowhere. Darcy stilled her fingers and looked up at the driver. To her surprise, his jaw was clenched and his grip on the steering wheel was tight. Darcy knew that look--she's worn it more than a few times. It was Morning-After Shame and it only happened when she was truly embarrassed about actions she committed in recent past (usually inebriated). Ah, yes, she's worn that look many time.

Her silence made him nervous, though, and he visibly struggled as he said, "I got kind of wasted--"  

"Oh, god, Bucky," Darcy cut him off before he continued. She shook her head at him and tried to offer some condolence. "You weren't that bad. Honestly."  

Now he was definitely frowning, and not buying into her sympathetic bullshit. "Steve said that I passed out _on_ you," he grumbled.

"Well, I hope Steve told you that I was pleased as punch having you two boys in my lap," Darcy said that with the straightest face possible, and leaned down to kiss Duke's head. "Isn't that right?" she joked to the dog. Duke licked her nose. 

That pulled Bucky out of his misery, if only for a second, because his face fell and choked. "Wait-- _what?_ "

"You and Duke were napping in my lap and I called you two my bitches."  Darcy looked up thoughtfully. "I think Natasha may have taken pictures." 

Bucky groaned, lifted his sunglasses and scrubbed his hand over his worn and weary face. "Ugh, that's _worse_ \--"

"Buck, " she cut him off, having tortured him enough but she couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her. The teasing part was over--now it was time for the sympathy. She reached out and rest a hand on his forearm for a moment. "Don't worry about it. Whatever you're building up in your head is worse than what actually happened." She hesitated before being brutally honest. "... I enjoyed the company." 

He didn't say anything, which probably meant he didn't believe her, but that was okay. She's had many a friend tell her the same words after a raging night out, and she didn't believe any of them, either, so this was just typical behaviour.  

And Bucky's really hadn't bothered Darcy at all, because she _had_ enjoyed the attention--but she would _never_ tell him that. Not when she's only known him for two days. Not when she was already dangerously close to crushing on him, not when she was still trying to figure out if he was the worst kind of person to crush on--the kind that teased, the kind with the killer smile and the kind that didn't realize the affect they had on others. There's a big difference between telling someone you enjoyed their company and telling someone you enjoyed their attention. And in the silence that followed her confession, she started to worry that maybe she should've just shut up.

Darcy snuck a glance at him. Bucky was staring her way, and was squinting in the sunlight--or he was smiling wide enough that his eyes crinkled along the edges. There was a boyish smirk to his mouth and Darcy realized he would always look young, but his eyes would give him away.

The last few days, those eyes have looked a little tired, glazed over, or fake (the awkward moment at the party, when Steve cut him off) but right now they have never been clearer.

"... You're a different kind of gal, Darcy Lewis."

Darcy's mouth pulled into a grin before she could stop it. "Limited edition."

He laughed.

 

\------

 

When they got back to the house, Darcy offered to help carry some of his groceries inside (least she could do for the free ride). She walked through the back yard and found that while most of Steve and Bucky's party guests had left, Clint and Natasha stayed behind. Darcy smiled awkwardly, but they all seemed pleased to see her. Steve jumped from the pool edge to help with the groceries. Duke ran past everyone to join Clint in the water. (That dog had it out for him.)

The boys decided to be boys and started playing football. That left Darcy to lounge with the amazingly gorgeous redhead wearing the cut-out swimsuit to read poolside.

Remember how Darcy was thinking about how she looked in her ripped pants and old shirt?

"How's the book?"  

Darcy pulled her squinting eyes from the glaring white pages of her new purchase and looked Natasha's way. Geeze, Natasha was gorgeous. Laying beside someone as toned and beautiful as her wasn't helping Darcy's self-esteem, but Natasha was smiling and waiting for an answer. So Darcy got over herself and shrugged.

"Very thick old English style." Darcy tossed it aside and put her head in her arms as she lay on her stomach. "I don't have the energy to focus enough."  The sun was making her sleepy anyway.

A yell down the beach caught her attention. Bucky was trying to tackle Clint and steal his football, but considering they were of the same size and stature, it wasn't happening--they kept stumbling on their feet while trying to knock the other off balance. Steve wasn't even trying to get in on it; he stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head with disappointment.  

That boy's shoulder to waist ratio should be illegal. Darcy narrowed her eyes at him.

"... Natasha?"  

"Darcy."  

"Are... are the boys seeing anybody?"

Natasha finally looked up from her book and stared out at the beach. Even through the sunglasses, Darcy could see her thinking hard about her response. "... Not really."  

Darcy wrinkled her nose at her hesitation. "What does that mean? I need real answers?"

There was a hint of amusement in her voice as she turned her attention back to her magazine. "It means ask them yourself. And tell me how it goes."

Darcy's cheeks went hot with embarrassment and she grasped blindly for her book, needing something to buffer her from the awkward air around them. It _was_ a tad high-school of her to ask Natasha that question; she may as well pass the boys notes questioning their interest, with little crudely drawn checkboxes for them to fill in 'yes,' 'no,' or 'fuck off.'

"... I'm being serious, Darcy."

When Darcy looked back up, Natasha had taken her glasses off and was smiling apologetically, as if she hadn't realized how harsh she sounded before. "I've only known you for twelve hours but I've got this much figured out: you're funny and respectful. That's good enough for me--so ask them if they're interested."

Darcy blinked a few times.

When she didn't recover, Natasha continued. "Sometimes, in our field, you see girls act interested because they want to date a man in uniform. They forget that there's a real person under that uniform and once shit gets real, they run off. I don't think we'd have that problem with you."

"Really?"

"If you spooked easily, we never would've seen you again after Bucky hung all over you yesterday."

She had a point.

"... did you just give me your blessing?"  

"What I gave you was a compliment."

The sunglasses went back on but her eyes didn't look back to the magazine until she made the obvious point: she would always be watching. 

Okedoke then.

 

\----------------

JULY 7

\----------------

 

Someone whistled at her.

Darcy frowned and lowered the Old English book (full of marks in the margins and sticky notes for reference) and had the curses ready and willing on her tongue, sitting up to spit them violently, but then she saw Steve and Duke running her way across the beach. She swallowed the words quickly, although a few tried to bubble back up.

Steve Rogers should never be allowed to run in open spaces. He looked like he belonged in a damn Abercrombie & Fitch commercial.

Steve wasn't even out of breath by the time he reached her, but he looked distraught. "Can I ask a huge favour? Bucky's out running errands and dropping Clint and Nat at the bus stop, and he's not picking up his phone--can you watch Duke? I just got called in for something with work, and I swear I'll be back in an hour--"

"Steve," Darcy started laughing when he didn't stop rambling and held a hand up to calm him. Steve shut up and looked hopeful. How could she say no to that face? "Take a breath. It's fine, I can totally watch Duke--it's not like he's high maintenance."

Duke, seeing this as permission to cuddle, fell onto Darcy's blanket and rolled onto his back. Darcy started rubbing his stomach without a second thought.

Relief washed over Steve and his shoulders relaxed. "Great. That's great. I owe you one, Darcy."

Darcy smiled, biting her lips together to stop the giggle that wanted to be set free. Damn it, all he did was say her name. But he said it in that deep voice, and he look so freakin' happy--

Steve was already walking backwards towards his house. He waved one last time before turning away. "You're a real lifesaver, doll!"

He ran down the beach, and Darcy had to watch his firm backside in his shorts, and once he was far enough away she looked down at Duke and sighed dramatically. "It's official. Both of your owners are the absolute worst people I could crush on."

Duke just panted, completely oblivious.

"And what was with that 'doll' talk? I don't need them acting all old-timey charming with me. That's not going to help. That's going to make me old-timey swoon."

Duke snorted.

Darcy found Duke's tennis ball in Steve's backyard and tossed it around the beach. He chased it and she chased him and before long, they were both tuckered out. Darcy started dozing on her blanket while Duke lay beside her, resting his head on her stomach.

When Steve arrived an hour later, just as he said, Duke hadn't flinched so Darcy hadn't noticed and kept sleeping. When she did wake up, she tilted her head back. Steve was focusing hard on his notepad, brows knit tightly together, the pencil stroking furiously across the page, the tip of his tongue poking between his teeth. It was very adorable and she was awfully curious about what was on his notepad. She didn't know he drew. The intensity in those baby blues was mesmerizing and she couldn't look away as he stared at the paper.

And then he looked up, saw she was staring, and jumped. He smiled, though, and put his notebook aside.

Darcy grinned back. "Everything good with work?"

He nodded. "Everything's great."

"Awesome. I'd ask you more, but your dog has exhausted me. How long was I out?"

"Not long. Maybe an hour."

Darcy groaned and sat up. "Sorry. Usually I'm more entertaining company."

"It's okay. I enjoy the quiet."

She believed him. Quiet was definitely a word she would use to describe Steve.

Darcy sat up and looked at the notebook. "What'cha drawing?"

Steve cheeks pinked before he grabbed the tennis ball and chucked it at the water to give Duke something to chase. Darcy bit her lips and didn't ask again.

 

\------

JULY 10

\-------

 

Darcy barely made it out to the beach the next day before Bucky was whistling at her and offering his pool. She huffed, crossed her arms over her chest and nearly dropped her blanket and her book (she was sooooo close to finishing).

"Anyone ever tell you guys that you shouldn't whistle to get a girl's attention?" she hollered at him.

Bucky shrugged, and the long sleeves of his shirt bunched a bit. "It worked, didn't it?" He put his hands in his pockets and nodded towards his backyard. ... I just cleaned the pool."

That was all the invitation she needed. Besides, she was sick of shaking sand out of her clothes.

"So what's your deal, Darcy?"

Darcy decided to float around in Clint's inflatable chair while Bucky sat on the edge of the pool, letting his feet soak. She glanced at him over the top of her sunglasses. What a loaded question. "What _part_ of my deal? The fine print or the bold?"

Bucky smiled, and it felt like he was resisting the urge to let his eyes wander. "Let's start with the bold."

Darcy rolled her eyes and admired his lame efforts. She pushed her foot against the wall of the pool, sending herself and the chair spinning slowly in the water. "Well, I'm not sure if Steve told you, but I just finished my degree at Culver--"

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. And don't interrupt."

She could _hear_ his smirk across the pool and refused to look at him.

"I've just finished at Culver, I'm going to NYU in the fall, but my student loans don't kick in until the end of August and I don't really have anywhere to live," Darcy continued. "Crashing at _Tawnia's_ place is out of convenience." As soon as it was out of her mouth, she felt selfish. Tawnia _is_ family... she asked Bucky, "That sounds so rude, doesn't it?"

"No," Bucky replied easily. "You have to make do with what you have--doesn't mean you have to like it." He shrugged and sat up. "They always say blood's thicker than water, like they're trying to guilt you into liking your family. The full saying is--"

"--the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb," Darcy cut him off, earning a grin. "I've heard that. Friends are the family you get to choose."

"Exactly. That's how it is in the army."

Whenever the boys mention their time in the army, she was happy--they open up for her and she's happy they trust her. It also puts her own problems into perspective. But Bucky kept pressing; he wanted to hear her problems. Maybe for him he enjoyed her distractions and didn't have to think about the army.

"So was she mad when we kidnapped you for the party?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Totally," she replied, dead pan. "There were sooo many eligible Wall Street yuppies to throw my way and I wasted the opportunity. Did you know that I wasted so many opportunities? _SO_ many opportunities." She mimicked Tawnia's faux-accent and Bucky broke down into a laughing fit. 

Darcy couldn't help adding, "She may be determined, but she underestimates my ability to turn men away. Trish found a guy named David that's she's been all twitterpatted over. I thought that would be enough to get Tawnia off my back for while, but no such luck."

"Turning men _away_?"

"Absolutely." She pushed her foot against the pool wall again to spin in the opposite direction now. "Guys get drawn in by the big boobs and red lipstick, but then they start to get to know the real me, and _surprise, surprise_ , college guys are so not into hot-headed dorks like me." She shrugged. "Which is fine; I'm looking forward to being a bitter old hag. Those will be fun years. I'll have a few cats."

When she next spun his way, Bucky stuck his foot out to hook his ankle around hers. Darcy stopped spinning and looked up at him. "The problem, Darce, is that you spend too much time around boys."

Darcy raised her eyebrows, completely taken back. "Boys like you?"

Bucky's smirk turned positively dirty. "You think I'm a boy?"

Oh god. He's the _worst_ guy to have a crush on.

"I think you're a jerk. And I'm going for a swim." Darcy pulled her shirt up over her head, revealing her black bra (no more scandalous than a bikini). "You can join me if you want."

And she fell into the water. She needed to cool down after that moment and she needed to get away from the conversation.

Darcy staid under as long as she could, especially when she noted his hesitation. He didn't take orders so easily, it seemed--at least, not from her--but thankfully, after a moment or two, she saw his blurry form above the water start to move. She saw his shirt get thrown aside before he fell into the water with her.

The skin of his arm was scarred and puckered from finger to shoulder, almost up his collar. It was dark and fresh--it couldn't be that old.

Darcy splashed up for air a second later and held her arms out with her eyes closed. "Marco!"

Bucky sputtered and laughed as he came up. "Are you serious right now?"

She felt around, waving blindly and deliberately avoided him to give him a chance. "The correct response is 'Polo,' dummy."

"My god, you _are_ a dork. We had no idea."

"I warned you, sucker. Marco!"

"At least you're a cute dork."

When the sun began to sink, Darcy finally pulled herself out of the water and pulled her shirt back on--it was uncomfortable and stuck to her wet skin--and Bucky got out to walk her to the gate. He didn't bother pulling his shirt back on. She thought she would catch herself staring at his skin, but the real problem was his eyes. They dragged over her from head to toe and she couldn't stop thinking about his 'boy' comment. Was he inferring that she should be hanging out with 'men'?

Bucky and Steve were most certainly men, and she had no idea what that would mean for her in the long haul, especially when little moments like this made her feel like she's back in junior high school and on her first date. Between Bucky's saucy comments and Steve's blushing ears, her stomach was fluttering with awkward butterflies

So tonight, before Bucky became too exciting, she quickly put the gate between them.

Bucky smirked. She winked and called him a punk before rushing home.

 

\----------

JULY 12

\----------

 

"What are they like?"

Darcy was sitting at the granite island in Tawnia's kitchen eating a bowl of Fruit Loops and reading a book she stole from Bucky and Steve's place. Trish came into the room looking fresh and breezy; in comparison, Trish isn't as bad as her mother, but she's still not that great either.

Which is why Darcy narrowed her gaze at the question. "What are you talking about?"

Trish rolled her eyes as she started to make herself a cup of coffee. "You _know_. The boys next door. Are you hooking up with them?"

 _Men. The MEN next door,_ she wanted to correct her for no real reason. Darcy pulled off a convincing scoff. "No, of course not. They're best friends. And they're great people," she held up her spoon and pointed it at Trish as she tried to turn the tables. "Regardless of what _When Harry Met Sally_ says, men and women can be friends. You know that, right?"

Trish gave her a positively fowl look. Ha. Mischief managed. Darcy went back to her cereal.

"Maybe I don't want to be friends with boys. Maybe I want to just fool around."

"That's your prerogative and I support your choice--as long as it's your own choice, there's consent from both sides, and you're happy with it." (Trish may be a jerk, but there's no point in slut shaming.)

"... Soooo do you have their numbers?"

An unwelcome surge of jealousy boiled in her stomach, mixed with swelling sense of protection. Darcy dropped her spoon in her bowl and set her eyes on Trish.

"No." _Yes_. "What about David?" _The new boyfriend._

Trish laughed way too easily. "You think I'm asking for me? Darce, c'mon--if you don't get with at least one of them before the summer is out, well, I don't think anyone can help you."

Now she felt silly for getting roped in so easily, but before she could retort, Tawnia walked into the room. "Them? Who is them?" She was already dressed for the day and putting her earrings in. Her eyes looked over Darcy's pyjamas and ratty tee-shirt and she pursed her lips, but didn't comment on it.

Darcy settled on huffing an angry breath and focusing on her cereal. What was with these two who were so obsessed with significant others?

" _Them_ are the boys next door," Trish replied, all too happily.

"What, the gay boys?"

Darcy snorted so hard she was sure a Fruit Loop would pop out her nose. "Please tell me you're joking," she struggled to ask through her laughter. If Tawnia had heard some of the comments--seen some of the looks Bucky had given her--... no. Absolutely not. Not her guys.

_Hold on a sec. When did she start referring to them as 'her guys'?_

Tawnia shook her head and looked deadly serious. "Darcy, when you've been in relationships, like Trish and I have been, you notice things. There's things that couples just... do. The way they act, the body language--those boys are obviously gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But honey," and she thinks she's being sincere, "there's nothing for you there."

It took a few seconds for Darcy to process this ludicrous advice. It took a few more seconds for her to decide to push her chair out from the table and get ready to leave.

"First of all, they aren't boys, they're men," her voice is quite controlled in this moment, and it captures their attention. "Secondly, if they are gay--so what? Like I _just_ said to you a hundred seconds ago... they're good people. I enjoy being around them. That's what matters. You two," she pauses and drops her spoon into the bowl so it clatters. "You two are so damn judgemental all the time and don't spend enough time looking at your own behaviour. I'd rather be around people that make me feel good. If they happen to make out with each other... "she didn't bother finishing the sentence. She gave them an exaggerated, crazy-person shrug and walked out of the room.

The women gave each other a knowing look as Darcy walked down the hall... and she was halfway up the stairs before she shouted, "And your gaydar sucks!"

Darcy closed her bedroom door and leaned against the wood. She was annoyed and frustrated and just felt icky. Tawnia grated on her nerves with her small-minded ways and her assumptions, as if she got off on labelling people. Steve and Bucky were two single men living together so they MUST be gay--

.... even if Tawnia was right, Darcy resolved to keep Trish as far away from them as possible. The protective feeling only grew stronger after that conversation. She didn't have to think hard about how comfortable she felt with them and how nice they've been--more so than Tawnia had ever been to her. To Darcy, Steve and Bucky would always be her friends. That was more important than any crush .... no matter if she felt a little sad about it.

 

\-------------

JULY 14

\-------------

 

It had been stormy and muggy the last few days, forcing Darcy to indoors. On this afternoon in particular, the worst storm of the season came 'round and knocked the power out. It didn't help that it was sweltering hot. The rest of the family was walking around the dark house whining and complaining as while Darcy was laying basically naked on the floor of her room in an attempt to cool down.

That's when her phone buzzed. She rolled over and reached for it.

 _We've got a backup generator running the AC at our place._  

She dressed haphazardly and barely zipped up her pants before she was running out the door, ignoring her aunt's protests to cover up, because she does not care. The wind almost knocks her over twice in the short walk across Tawnia's front lawn and the driveway and she's soaked by the time she reaches their doorstep, but it doesn't matter.

Because when Bucky opens the door and the burst of cold air hits her, _nothing_ matters. Decency, manners-- _nothing_ but getting into that house.

"Oh, holy, Jesus," she enunciates, closing her eyes in bliss.

Bucky only smirks and steps aside. "I've been called worse."

Steve is sitting in the living room when she comes in and offers her one of his shirts so she can at least be dry while they ride the storm out. They don't dare turn on the television, lest they blow the generator, so they sit on the floor in the living room, drink Steve's homemade lemonade and play the board games they found in the front hall closet, all while trying to calm a nerve-rattled Duke (he nestled between anybody's bodies looking for shelter from the thunder).

About halfway through the game, Darcy gave Bucky the side-eye. Bucky felt her stare and looked up. "What?"

"I smell something fishy."

"We _are_ at the ocean, doll," Steve gently reminded her as he recounted his money.

Darcy waved a hand at him to shush him. He's too distracting with his pet names and perfect hair. "You're the sketchiest banker I've ever played with."

Bucky gaped with mock indignation and gestured to the Monopoly money in its tray. "I'm playing fair and square!"

"Bullshit!" Darcy pointed to the money tray in question. "There were twice as many twenties in that pile half an hour ago--where'd they go, Barnes? WHERE?"

"Look at the pile Steve has--just cuz you're not winning any--"

"Shut up and show me the money, Barnes!"

Darcy started poking at Bucky and Bucky started poking back and suddenly they're roughhousing. Steve rolled his eyes and stood up to get between them, tugging Bucky back--but the motion of tugging on his shirt releases a rolled stack of twenties and tens from his shirt sleeve.

Steve and Darcy both go wide-eyed. Bucky used the moment to jump to his feet and run.

They tried chasing him around the house but Bucky has always been light on his feet. It doesn't help that Duke started getting panicky with all the commotion. He barked up a storm and wouldn't get out of the way of everyone running.

Darcy thought she had Bucky cornered in the bedroom (while Duke tripped Steve in the kitchen) but Bucky pulled this Cirque-de-sole shit that vaulted him over the mattress and out the door. "No super-soldier moves allowed!" she shouted, because she's obviously at a disadvantage.

"I don't play by the rules, babe," Bucky shouted over his shoulder... or tried to. Darcy was right on his tail, and Bucky grinned at her as he opens his mouth, but he doesn't see Duke dart from the kitchen and run between his leg. Bucky falls over him. Duke's quick enough to jump away. Darcy's not.

Instead of crashing face-first onto the hardwood floor, Bucky twisted to fall on his back and caught her. She falls hard and she's sure she's knocked the wind out of him in the process. (Because she's not light and OW, that was a hard fall). When he's quiet, she got worried and looked up at him.

He's fine. He's smiling fondly. His arms are around her and he doesn't look ready for her to get up yet.

Darcy's momentarily frozen. Bucky's warm and surprisingly comfortable beneath her. She bites her lips together but can't look away.

Bucky's hand, the scarred one, slid down to gently press against her lower back.

The floorboards creak ahead of them.

Darcy looked up to see Steve staring at the two of them. It's the kick in the pants she needs--she finally put her hands on the floor and pushed herself up. She can't lean on Bucky to stand--no way. No more touching, not after that.

"Consider that a warning if you cheat again, Barnes," she told him, keeping it light.

Without skipping a beat, as if the last ten seconds hadn't happened, Bucky smirks at her retreating back and replies, "What are you gonna do, throw me in jail?"

"Yeah, and I'll take away all of the 'get out of jail free' cards from the deck," she snapped back with a smirk as she steps past Steve. She can't look at him. But she does say, "Steve and I are splitting the money you took."

Because even as they head back to the living room and continue the game, and joke around and try to comfort poor, traumatized Duke, Darcy has Tawnia's words swirling in her brain. She can't mute them and she can't shut them up.

Not after Steve looked hurt catching Bucky and Darcy pressed flush against each other.

Whether Steve and Bucky are in a relationship or not, they're still best friends. She can't do things like that. She never wants to see that look in Steve's eyes ever again.

\------

She doesn't go home, though, even though she still feels awkward hours later. It's very late and Darcy can barely keep her eyes open, but the storm is still raging outside. Tree branches and trash litter the beach and driveway. Steve pulls her to her feet. "I'm not letting you go outside in that," he insists.

"Steve, it's only like, fifty yards away--"

"I don't care--there's no cover and I don't need you getting hit by flying lawn ornaments."

Darcy glares at him. "Fine. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Darce--"

"Nuh-uh, I'm not putting you or Bucky out of your beds or your rooms. Sleep on your damn mattresses and I'll take the couch."

Steve looks ready to correct her but just rolls his eyes and gives her a gentle push towards the sofa. She falls back on it and she's out before Bucky puts a blanket over her.

Sleep is thick and restless the whole night long. She feels guilty and out of place and it's just unpleasant.

When Darcy wakes up she finds her head on a very firm thigh. Darcy opens her eyes and sees the calm (and very early morning) weather out the window, and then she's staring up at Steve. He must've changed into a tee-shirt and sweatpants. A newspaper is laid out on the armrest beside him. A coffee mug in his hand. His other is resting on her hip, and she can feel the warm weight of his thick fingers through the blanket.

The unpleasant feeling is chased away by something else.

Steve notices her wake up and winces apologetically. "Sorry," he speaks softly, "This is the only place to sit in the morning without the sun blinding you."

Darcy looked over to the kitchen and saw that the whole place was lit up from the early morning glare. Not like she didn't believe him--he was right. But she still frowned and shook her head. " _I'm_ sorry--I'm invading your space." ... In more ways than one. But she couldn't say that. They didn't know each other well enough to have that conversation. She should get up. She should get her stuff and head back home and get out of their way.

"... You're not."

Darcy had her hand pressed against the cushion, already prepping to put her weight on it to sit up and get out. But his voice is quiet and it stops her in her tracks. Darcy frowns, rolls over to stare up at him properly. 

Nothing is subtle about his stare. It's everything they should've talked about last night and didn't. The tender gaze is too much for her to handle and she wants to turn away from it. 

The hand on her hip squeezes gently. "You're not invading at all. Stay."  

So she curls up again and tries to go back to sleep, not sure what on earth he gave her permission to do. It's a while before her heart is calm. Steve never moves his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER: Steve and Bucky's July (and everything before)
> 
> The next chapter (already written, just tweaking) is the above time-period from Steve and Bucky's perspective. It's also sprinkled with their back story. 
> 
> Warning: I will make you cry. That is, in fact, my _goal_.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed :)


	4. I want you to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Not really sure how to feel about it._   
>  _Something in the way you move_   
>  _Makes me feel like I can't live without you._   
>  _It takes me all the way._   
>  _I want you to stay...._
> 
>  
> 
> \- STAY
> 
> \--------
> 
> The boys try to make the most of this time they have together--dealing with how they got there, and considering their future's possibilities...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. This is 9,400 words long. I tried to make it less. Tried to cut it back. Tried to split it up but it just didn't work. So here you go. Please take a break half-way through as this is a lot for one sitting >.:)
> 
> Much thanks to inkandash for her advice and hand-holding. And thank you all for your comments and kudos!!! I'm glad to be back in the swing of things here :) 
> 
> No beta for this, so mistakes are mine. ITALICS mean a past scene. I'm sorry if it's confusing :s

 

\--------

JULY 5

\--------

  
  
  
"How're you feeling, hotshot?"  
  
When James woke up post-party he could barely open his eyes. His head was pounding. His hair was matted and gross. He needed a shower and he also needed to curl up and hide from the world. So when he finally mustered the energy to leave his bed and venture to the kitchen for coffee, Clint's heckling was completely unappreciated. And it was definitely heckling, because Clint was wearing that trademark shit-eating grin that James just wanted to slap right off his face. All while he sat at James' table, in James' house. So ungrateful.  
  
James glared at him while he shuffled to the kitchen and ignored the question by asking one of his own. "When are you leaving, again?"  
  
"Sunday," Natasha answered absentmindedly. She was also sitting at the kitchen table, flipping the pages of a magazine with little interest toward its contents. "Thought we would leave today, but the weather's too good... and we don't have to be at work again until Monday, anyway."  
  
"Wonderful," James grumbled. "Not that I don't enjoy your company."  
  
"Don't worry, Buck--I know you well enough to know your passive-aggressiveness is all directed at Clint."  
  
Clint flipped James off just as Steve was leaving the bathroom after a shower. Of course, it was _his_ birthday last night, and he was supposed to be the one that was hungover for a few days, but he looked shiny and new. Life wasn't fair.  
  
Clint jumped to his feet and thumbed towards the door. "Football?"  
  
"Sure," Steve said, rubbing his towel through his still-wet hair. "But not until we do a food run. We're kind of out of... everything."  
  
"I'll go," James offered.  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yeah, I need to get some stuff anyway."  
  
"He means he needs more aspirin."  
  
"Shut up, asshole."  
  
"And while they play football," Natasha began, and finally looked up from her book to meet James eyes, "you can make a trip next door to apologize."  
  
James shoulders sagged. "... what?"  
  
Clint started laughing.

Dread filled him and his shoulders sagged. "Oh. Oh god. What did I do?"  
  
Natasha only smiled. "She's cute. Not that surprising that you'd get all cuddly and lay your head in her lap."  
  
James almost dropped his coffee cup. He looked over to Steve, who was only grimacing apologetically.  
  
"Oh, _fuck_."  
  
 _  
\----------_

_James was put up for adoption the day he was born._

_He was in foster housing for the first ten years of his life, but guardians found him 'difficult' and unwilling to listen to authority. (His own words.) After a while, instead of giving him to another family, he was put into a state-run boys home. It was horrible, but it was all he had._  

 _And then Steve Rogers showed up. His mom had died from cancer and his dad died five years before that. With no next of kin and his grandparents in nursing homes, his tiny, scrawny self was sent to the boys home._  

_Steve was sick a lot. He suffered from asthma, sinusitis, he had freaking heart murmur--if a strong wind came 'round, it would knock him over. The other kids picked on him. He was easy; he was someone they could take out their frustrations on. Everybody was hurting. What better way to deal with it than to spread it around?_

_And Steve would still call them out when they were being jerks. He'd stand up after taking a hit. He'd tell them what was wrong and show that their strength wouldn't change that._

_Eventually James couldn't stand watching any more. Some kid punched Steve in the jaw one day, sending him flat on his ass, and suddenly James was punching that kid in the nose and sending his ass to the floor, too. He'd stand up with Steve, daring anyone to fight him, and fought for him if he needed to. And Steve was a big fan of that kind of loyalty._

_James glared at anyone who saw him as easy pickings. James encouraged Steve to ask Tracy Albright to the middle-school dance (she said no) but then Steve needed less encouraging to ask Donna Meagle to Homecoming (she said yes). So far, none of the gals every stuck around longer than a date or two, but James was always there. When a date went bad, Steve and James talked it over. When there were nightmares (and there were always nightmares) they stayed up late to talk it out, until they were calm enough to go back to bed._

_They were best friends. James would die for the dumb kid, even after he had his (three) growth spurts and was capable of handling himself. They enlisted together, they were promoted together... they suffered gunshot wounds and were there when a comrade died in action... in James words, he wouldn't know what to do without him._

_Steve was James' best friend._

_\-----------_

  
James had his shopping list and moved through the chilled grocery store to get the most important thing first: beer. He hurried to the alcohol at the back of the store and grabbed a twelve pack to tide them all over for the rest of the weekend. Next was the aisle with the pain killers. Then Natasha wanted some fresh veggies for the dinner she wanted to make tonight...  
  
He had just about everything he needed, and was humoring the idea of some junk food, so he turned down that aisle next, only to pause at the sight of Darcy.  
  
Darcy was thoroughly evaluating the bagged candy on the wall. She looked good. Hell, she looked great; loose tank, a good choice for a hot day like today, the armholes dipping just low enough to show off the edges of her green bra. Her brown hair tousled perfectly; lips pursed perfectly; shorts showing off her curvy legs--  
  
Her name had slipped from his lips before he expected it.

"Darce?"

Darcy jumped at his voice, obviously surprised. "God, Buck--you freaked me out."

James forced a smile as he walked up the aisle. "Sorry."

Darcy waved it off. "I'm not used to anyone out here recognizing me."

"Well, most of our encounters have involved candy... you should've known better."

Darcy's cheeks pinked to his satisfaction, and James smirked until she called him an ass. She paused and eyed him momentarily.

"Aren't you--kind of over beer, after last night?" 

She was teasing him. James' shoulders sagged--and what made it worse, Darcy's cheeks were pinking slightly. Geeze, how drunk had he been last night? And what did he do to her? So he cleared his throat and replied as best he could. "Yeah, well... Now that the party's over, we're kind of out of... everything." He shrugged and tried to be cool. "What're you up to?"

"Bought some books. Now making a crucial decision," Darcy gave him a very serious stare as she held up the two bags of candy. "Choose wisely--our friendship may suffer the consequences."

James' eyebrows rose with surprise, and then he laughed, more than he thought he would at such a simple joke. He couldn't begin to wonder why--his head was still pounding. After some consideration, he pointed to the bag in her left hand. "Fuzzy Peaches. When in doubt, always choose Fuzzy Peaches."

The stern look curled into a grin, and Darcy turned to put the other bag back. "Now I know your favourite candy."

Why did that give him butterflies in his stomach?

James cleared his throat. "Did you drive here? I thought I saw your car in your aunt's garage."

"I biked. Got some fresh air."

"... do you want a ride back?"

Darcy wrinkled her nose. "What about the bike?"

"I'm driving the Range Rover today. Don't be too impressed--it belongs to the landlord, not us." James tilted his head, trying to be as enticing as possible. "C'mon, Darce."

Darcy chewed her lip for a moment, but it was because she was trying to make a decision--James was biting his lip so hard from nerves he was sure to chew it off in a few seconds.

"...meet you at the tills?"

James smiled triumphantly. "Deal." 

 

\----

 

Back at the house, Steve and Clint had finally finished cleaning up from the night before. Then it was time to be out on the sand--at least, so Natasha decreed. "I only get a few vacation days during the summer, and I'm not spending them _not_ on a beach."

The trio were out in the backyard--Natasha lounging in a chair, Steve sat on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water, and Clint floating around. Football seemed like a poor idea now, with this weather. (Well, that's what Clint said, but the truth was football was a bit unfair when the only players were Clint and Steve. It loses some appeal when one player has a whole foot's height and thirty pounds over the other.)

"How's he been?" Natasha spoke up after a stretch of comfortable silence.

Steve stiffened up at the mention. Clint lifted his head to show he was paying attention to the conversation. Steve knew it was safe to talk to them--they were the only ones who understood. It didn't mean it would be any more comfortable to speak of, but Clint and Natasha were staring at him, waiting for an answer. It had been a few weeks since the group had been together, so it wasn't unexpected that Clint and Natasha were expecting a status report.

Steve kicked his legs back and forth in the water as he tried to delay what he wanted to say. That he was spooked. That he was scared. That he was in over his head. "... I think last night was pretty bad," Steve mumbled. "I haven't seen him get that drunk in... a long time."

They both frowned, obviously not pleased with the answer, but Natasha spoke up. "I can't argue with you there."

"He was also...  _talking_ about it. Not to me."

That made both of them start. Clint swam over to the edge of the pool. "What do you mean?" 

Steve's fingers clenched around the edge of the pool, fingers slipping along the tile. "I was talking to Darcy--the girl from next door--and James just came up and started yapping about what happened... not in detail, but the cliff notes."

Natasha pulled her sunglasses from her face to look him in the eye, and she looked as disturbed as Steve felt. Natasha didn't like being surprised. "James _never_ talks about it to me. Not even the cliff notes."

"Same here," Clint sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to process this. "He didn't talk much to the military therapist, either."

"... how do you think I feel?"

Natasha finally saw Steve's hunched shoulders, his clenching hands, but couldn't see his face. She stood up quickly and walked over to him, squatting beside his form to hug him around the shoulders. It was hard to envelop him the way she wanted to, considering the obvious differences, but Natasha did her best to squeeze hard enough for him to feel her presence. "This isn't your fault, Steve. He'll come around in his own time. You just keep being patient, supportive, and wonderful, just like you have been."

It wasn't good enough--Steve shook his head. "I don't know how long I can keep at it, though. He still covers up all the time." Literally and figuratively.

"You know there's a chance that he'll always cover up," Clint pointed out. He frowned sympathetically, but couldn't avoid this. He's always been a straight-shooter, never one to tiptoe around an issue, and he was doing his best to be respectful of James's situation, but... 

The sound of the Range Rover returning filled the air, as the gravel to the side of the house crackled under the tires. Natasha stood up and moved away from Steve, not quickly enough to be considered cold, but Steve missed it instantly. "You can always call us, Steve," she reminded him, before putting her glasses back on and picking up her fallen magazine.

Steve nodded, more out of politeness than thanks (because he knew they were trying their best) just as James came around and opened the gate to the yard. Duke bounded through, rushed right past Steve, and dove into the water with Clint. Clint groaned and tried to get the licking dog off of him, and that's when giggling filled the air. Steve's brow furrowed and he looked over his shoulder.

James wasn't alone.

Darcy was walking through the gate ahead of James, holding one of the grocery bags. And James was smiling from ear to ear. He saw Steve staring, and his smile didn't falter. "Look who I found in the candy aisle."

Darcy elbowed him in the ribs. "You could've just said you found me, you didn't have to say in the candy aisle." But she got over her annoyance and smiled nervously at the rest of them. "Morning."

"Hey kid," Clint replied, finally getting a handle on Duke. Natasha smiled warmly to her, and Steve noticed Darcy relax. (It was normal to be intimidated by Natasha--he'd seen many a woman cower under her stare.)  When Darcy's eyes landed on him, though, her smile pulled a little more brightly.

And he remembered the last time he saw those lips, pressing a kiss to his cheek

Steve licked his lips unconsciously and Darcy's eyes went right to them.

"Football?" Clint asked James, completely oblivious.

James was all for it, he just had to put the groceries away. The guys left Natasha and Darcy poolside while they ran around on the beach and sweated up a storm. Heat or no heat, the competition between the three of them was too important to ignore a challenge.

But Steve's mind was more than a little preoccupied. The talk of James opening up to Darcy had made Steve so uncomfortable, so nervous... this was jealousy. He hadn't felt it for a long time. This was his best friend, opening up about the most traumatic experience of his life, to a girl he just met. It wasn't fair--Steve should be hearing this. He'd been guessing where James' mind was at for the last two months, he deserved to be the first to hear it ... right?

But then he realized he had opened up to Darcy too--about being away from home for so long. And she was right there with him the whole night, in spite of James' behavior and no matter how intimidating Natasha was. She had said _I'm glad you're here, too._ And even he couldn't deny the chill that went up his spine when he had walked her home to her porch last night, and she had leaned close and pressed those full lips against his skin. Nor could he deny the fact that wanting to take her home--holding her hand the whole way--that had been his idea.

And that all of it--the kiss, the touching, the teasing--it had felt _good_.

What was bringing this on?

At that moment, James and Clint were lamely fighting over the ball and Steve stood back to watch the two knuckleheads go at it. He took the opportunity to look back at the pool, and saw Darcy and Natasha watching them. Darcy waved, a flick of her fingers, and Steve smiled at her.

And that's when Natasha changed. Her resting face--professional politeness--shifted, in a way only her best friends would recognize. Now there was an air of pride and full-on amusement. She liked something. That something was Darcy.

Steve tilted his head. If Natasha approves... that's only meant good things.

 

\------------

 

 _There had always been girls here and there. None of them lasted. None of them really_ got _them._

_If you had to describe twenty-something James in one word, you wouldn't choose thug, punk, or soldier--you'd choose "flirt." That guy would smirk and wink and whistle at anything with boobs that walked on two legs. Sometimes it earned him a slap (and Steve couldn't deny that James deserved it most of the time) but sometimes it would lead to a date. Sometimes when they were out at a bar, James would get lucky and would rush off with a girl and Steve just assumed he wouldn't be coming home that night._

_He tried to ignore how it hurt to watch James run after someone else so easily, leaving him, the best friend, by himself. He'd drink a little more to take the edge off, but since his growth spurts, Steve couldn't get drunk as easily as he used to._

_James noticed, though. He may thinking with his penis, but he wasn't blind. If his girls ever had friends, James would suggest that they do a double-date with Steve. They'd be sweet to him and they'd find him attractive, obviously. Some gals aren't expecting a man of Steve's build to be so shy at first; they except his 'type' to be tough, maybe a bit mean. Which really just showed that those gals hung out with boys, and not men._

_And then they meet Peggy._

_The night started off with James hitting on her and earning himself a drink in the face with some choice words--words that Steve heard and he couldn't help laughing into his glass. James excused himself to the bathroom to clean up (the drink and what was left of his pride), and that's when Steve got to talking with her. Peggy's got red lips and thick brown hair and her eyes sparkle. It's a wonderful contrast to her smart words and sharp attitude. She likes how polite Steve is and how much he isn't into rushing things._

_They go on a date. A dinner out turns into a movie. Then it turns into coffee a few days later. They continue to meet up, and James becomes familiar with her and even starts to like her. He can't help disliking the sinking feeling in his stomach though, the feeling that rises when he sees how happy Steve gets in her presence. He tries Steve's trick and drinks the feeling away._

_One night, when they're out at the bar with friends, Peggy takes Steve back to her place. James gives him a thumbs up as they leave the bar, genuinely wanting to cheer the jerk on, but finds the sight of his best friend retreating with a girl oddly heartbreaking._

_He reminds himself that Steve getting laid is a good thing and orders another shot._

_When Steve comes home, it's obvious that he's had sex. It's obvious that it was great and better than James's first time. His hair's a mess, there are remnants of that girls red lipstick around his mouth, his shoes are barely tied up._

_James's sitting on the sofa, drunker than he meant to get that night, and when he looks at Steve--and the awkward triumphant smile he offers, signalling a 'successful' night--James almost bursts into tears._

_When Steve rushes to his side, asking his best friend what's wrong, James clasps his hands around Steve's neck and pulls him in._

_Steve doesn't punch him. He doesn't scurry away._

_Because between tossing around in the sheets Peggy, the best girl he's ever met, a girl he can see himself travelling the world with... and kissing James...   Steve's can't tell which one feels more comfortable._

_\------_  
  
In the morning, after waking up in a tangle of James's arms--but partly relieved to find their clothes still on--Steve rolls out of bed, grabs his phone and decides he needs to fess up to Peggy. She deserves that, at the very least.  
  
Someone that isn't Peggy picks up her phone.  
  
Someone that isn't Peggy tells Steve that she was out running errands that morning and was hit by a cab.  
  
Someone that isn't Peggy knows they need to hang up the phone when they hear muffled sobbing through the line.  
  


 

 

\------------

JULY 7

\------------

 

 

On Sunday, James drove Clint and Natasha to the Jitney to head back to New York. They had only been gone for a few minutes when the phone rang.

Early on into their military leave, Steve realized he had a problem: he was too fidgety to sit at home all day. He needed something to do to pass the time, and drawing in his notebook and reading wasn't settling his restlessness. He applied to a few part-time landscaping jobs around the area and someone finally called him back that Sunday.

But the job wanted to meet him on the other side of town in twenty minutes; and he couldn't wait for James to come back because the employer was heading back to New York by lunch and would be gone all week.

Steve hung up the phone, promising he would figure something out, and looked down at Duke. Duke, the dog who dug up the terf by the fence yesterday. Duke, the dog accidentally ate some of Natasha's chocolate, barfed, then ate that again, just this morning.

It was a complete shot in the dark, but there was no way Duke could be left alone.

Steve ran with the dog out the backyard and through the gate. He spotted Darcy easily, since she was the only one out there and her dark hair stood out against the sand. He whistled her way to catch her attention. She sat up quickly and looked his way. Once Duke figured out who she was, he bolted for her.

"Can I ask a huge favour? James's driving Natasha and Clint back--can you watch Duke? I just got called in for something with work, and James's gone for the day, and I swear I'll be back in an hour--"

"Steve," Darcy started laughing, holding up a hand to him. "Take a breath. It's fine, I can totally watch Duke. It's not like he's high maintenance."

Duke, seeing this as permission to cuddle, fell onto Darcy's blanket and rolled onto his back. Darcy started rubbing his stomach without a second thought. Steve resisted the urge to educate Darcy in just how 'not high maintenance' this dumb dog was.

But there were more pressing matters at the moment. Relief washed over Steve's face. "Great. That's great. I owe you one, Darcy."

Darcy simply smiled up at him. He had to focus just to turn away from her mouth and run back to the house.

The meeting went fine. He was hired for twenty hours a week--the boss told him ahead of time that Steve was the biggest guy he's ever hired, and he could use someone who could do some heavy lifting--and that was all Steve needed. A little bit of distraction, something he could talk about at the dinner table, something that could fill up the silence.

Steve got back to the cottage pretty much an hour after he left, exactly what he told Darcy. He tossed his keys on the table and looked out the kitchen windows towards the beach; Darcy's dark hair and the blonde lump that was Duke were visible in the distance, laying in the sand. He probably exhausted the poor girl--'not high maintenance,' eh? Steve chuckled to himself; Darcy would probably be rescinding her offer to babysit the dog for the rest of the summer.

The sun was high, past the halfway point of the day, and the sky was as clear blue as it had ever been. The harsh cut between the shoots and greens on the beach, the white sand, the dark ocean and the sky... Steve found himself taking his pencils and notebook out with him when he made his way out the back door.

The sun may be bright but it wasn't as muggy as it was the other day. At least he could appreciate the breeze through his hair, instead of feeling desperate for it. The closer he got to Darcy and Duke, he realized they were asleep. Duke didn't even jump as Steve got closer and Steve had to roll his eyes. Some guard dog. He sat back into the sand and began to sketch the view.

About a third of the way through it, after getting the waves just how he wanted--drawing ocean horizons was hard, okay?--he wondered if he should wake her. It was a bit weird to be hanging out with Darcy without her knowledge, wasn't it? Maybe he should just... nudge her. Then again, he was just doing the job that Duke should be doing. Yeah, that's it. Someone had to look out for the poor defenceless girl laying unconscious on the beach.

Before he even thinks about it, Steve's turning to a fresh page in his notebook because he's got a new set of coloured pencils, and the brown matches Darcy's hair perfectly. Correction: it matches her hair when the sun shines on it and gives her curls a golden hue. Once that part is done, he has her laid out on his paper, with Duke on her stomach, her fingers in the dog's fur.

The trickiest part? Her lips.

She's resting right now, but to him, Darcy's always smirking. Just a little bit. He spends a lot of time tracing and getting the curve of her mouth just right, and then he's shading their fullness with a deep pink, a pink he uses on her cheeks against her pale skin. He uses the pad of his fingertip to spread the colour around, softly, sweeping up on her cheekbones. No, the mouth still isn't right. It needs to be sharper--but not in a harsh way. God, did that even make sense? Darcy was quick with her wit, no matter who it was--him, James, Clint (okay, maybe not Natasha)--but she delivered it with a smile so sweet that it was more than obvious that she said it with love. Darcy never made him feel unwanted. He just wanted to capture that same feeling with her mouth against the page.

He squints against the brightness of his page and the sun reflecting off it. His eyes flick up as his pencil traces over the curve of her hip, because he can't quite remember where her shorts land on her leg--

Darcy's awake, her head tilted back, and those baby-blues are staring right at him. He can't tell if the sun is shining off them, or if they're just so alive and vibrant that they... sparkle.

Steve stills.

She grins at him. "Everything good with work?"

Steve nods. "Everything's great."

Darcy stretches her arms up and arches her back. She grunts a bit during the move. "Awesome. I'd ask you more, but your dog has exhausted me. How long was I out?"

"Not long," he's honest. "Maybe an hour." 

Darcy's back fell back to the sand and she groaned. "Sorry. Usually I'm more entertaining company." She rolls over to her side, waking Duke, who shakes his head and backs up from her.

Steve watches her sit up and stretch once more. She catches his eye and smiles. That's the mouth he was looking for. "It's okay," he's honest again. "I enjoy the quiet."

This seemed to satisfy her, so she scrubbed her fingers through Duke's fur as the poor puppy woke up. This was a Darcy he hadn't seen before. This was soft Darcy, a calm Darcy--a privilege to those who had the opportunity to see her before her defences woke up.

Steve set his pencils aside, back into their tin, and was about to flip his notebook closed when he finally saw what he had done. This wasn't a simple doodle, something someone created when they were bored--this was a full blown portrait. Her pale skin and thick lashes... no one draws with that much detail, that much care and attention, on a _whim._

Steve's throat feels tight. He closes the book and sets it aside, because he can't even begin to figure things out right now. All he knew was that he felt like this before, three years ago, and he didn't know how to handle it.

He felt like this with Peggy.

"Steve?"

He met her eyes.

"What'cha drawing?"

Steve grabbed that tennis ball so quickly he's shocked he doesn't throw it into her face by accident.

 

\------------

  

_They dive into their work. They move up in the ranks. They meet Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton and go on a few secret ops missions. The army didn't lie; they really got to see the world._

_Steve doesn't date. James never apologizes for the kiss. Neither of them talk about that night. When they're out at a bar, and a friend rushes off with a girl, the other one shuts up._  
  
Natasha is the one who figures it out for them. 

_She's strong and wicked smart. She's sexy in a dangerous way and then she opens her mouth and spills wit and wisdom. Steve watches James melt a bit at the sight of her whenever she walks into a room. It makes his chest hurt--this will be the one that will finally stick._

_Natasha tolerates James's flirting. She's agreed, on more than one occasion, to play James's 'wife' when they're undercover. The chemistry is easy and they know how to read each others signals--and it was the same when she was with Steve, too. During a few missions together, Steve noticed a lot of similarities between Natasha and James, the good similarities that help them both go home in one piece. The longer they know each other, the less sad Steve feels. Because really, if he had to lose James to someone, he'd pick Natasha._

_She flirts with him too--in a much more subtle way. Steve isn't sure if she just likes to tease as much as James does, or if she's really interested. Which unnerves him. He's not sure how to react sometimes when she tells him to smile more, or when she pats his cheek when he's brooding too much. This could just be the way that Natasha shows her affection, shows that she cares--except the last woman that cared was Peggy. Steve never got around to telling Natasha about her. He wasn't sure he could open up about that._

_It's after a mission in Prague when Natasha straightens Steve and James out._

_James had been steadily drinking from the mini bar in the hotel room all night, and Steve's not an idiot, he's watched James nudge Natasha's knee with his own, seen his hand playing with hers, seen the heady look in James's eyes as the night wears on. Steve knows what's about to happen. So he finally picks up his beer and stands up with the intention of retreating to his bedroom to give them some privacy._

_And then Natasha's standing up with him._

_Steve stares down at the hand she gripped his arm with, at her surprisingly sincere eyes, and barely registers her leaning close because she's smiling so sweetly. Natasha is always saucy or serious--sweet wasn't a word he would use and it's jarring. He doesn't know what to do._

_Natasha kisses him, and it's soft and smooth, and Steve hasn't had a kiss this good in so, so long. He cradles her head, fingers sliding through her red tresses easily. Warmth spurs and curls inside his belly as she sucks on his bottom lip._

_When she pulls back, Steve's short of breath. Natasha curls her fingers in James's direction and he's beside her in an instant. She lays a kiss on him that is absolutely filthy, and panic fills Steve. Is she suggesting... --is this really happening?_

_James looks as dazed as Steve felt when Natasha finished with him. She keeps her hand in the short hair at his neck, and pulls James towards Steve._

_There's a moment's hesitation--this has been stifled for two years, ignored and brushed under the rug. Except when James pulls Steve's head down, it's familiar and easy. He tastes the same, Steve thinks as James licks past his lips. They both last longer than their kisses with the redhead--Steve's hands travel up James's back and he can feel his muscles relax, one by one._

_When they finally part for breath, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, blood pumping so loudly that they could hear it in their ears, Steve's already trying to decide what to pull off first. Does he want James shirtless or--_

_And then he opens his eyes and sees that Natasha's not pulling at their clothes or her own. The sweetness is gone and she has her arms crossed. She looked so sexy a moment ago and now she looks annoyed. She says, "Do you two get it, now?"_

_James's eyes open sharply and he finds Steve looking as confused as he feels._

_Natasha rolls her eyes, picks up the bottle of vodka, and retreats to the spare room--the room Steve thought he'd be in._

_That... that was all planned. She wanted them to kiss. She wanted them to admit that this was so easy and natural, a-and... right._

_Finally, after a very long moment avoiding each other's gaze, Steve peeked over at James. And it wasn't disgust in the other's eyes, or dismissal... it was hope._

_Steve's shoulders sagged at the relief, and James chuckled softly at his overreaction and muttered, "Jerk," before pressing close again. And they're both at the point of being drunk enough to not think so hard._

_Finally._

_\-------------_

JULY 10

_\-----------_

 

The drive back to the house after work is long. Steve had spent most of the day carrying tinder blocks around--his boss hadn't been joking when he said he needed a guy for heavy lifting--and he was going to need to stretch tonight, or god knows how he would feel tomorrow. Sitting in the stiff car seat wasn't helping.

He pulled into the driveway of the house, got out of the car, and walked through the kitchen door as he normally did. The keys to the car were tossed on the kitchen table and all Steve had on his mind was a shower and a hot sandwich--

There were voices in the backyard.

Steve crept past the kitchen to look out the patio windows. From the laughter that filled the air, he had an idea who it was.

Darcy pulled herself from the pool, graciously accepting the towel James offered her as she wiped the majority of water from her skin. Steve's breath caught in his throat--her skin was still pale, even from being in the sun so often, and she still managed to glow. And she was wearing wet denim shorts and her black bra, and even with her makeup washed off, her lips were still red. She smiled at James, and Steve watched her lips pull back, exposing her teeth.

And his breath caught again when he realized James wasn't wearing a shirt.

Steve had seen James's scars only a handful of times. It was obvious that he was ashamed of them, although he had no reason to be--none of it was his fault--but James kept the marred skin covered whenever he left the house.

Darcy pulled her shirt over her head, the dry fabric clinging to her wet skin, and shut the gate behind her. James leaned against the gate and his eyes raked up and down her body.

Steve turned sharply and walked into the kitchen.

He didn't know what to think. Was James sick of him? Was he over it?

He didn't know how to breathe.

Steve's halfway into making his sandwich--focusing on the bread and the butter and pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. It's methodical, easy, and he doesn't have to think too hard. He does think too hard about the sound of the patio door opening, the familiar footfalls across the floor.

Skin slid along his neck--fingers with groves and twists in the flesh, hard ridges in odd places--and squeezed. It was a move that always sent through Steve's whole body, to the tips of his fingers. He closed his eyes and relished in the warmth, hands stilling against the counter. In everything he was feeling, he needed to hold onto whatever was familiar and welcome.

Lips pressed against his temple. "Welcome home," James mumbled, lips warm on his skin.

"Thanks." His voice is smaller than he wants it to be.

James notices. "What's wrong?"

".... you showed her?"

The hand around his neck twitched. Just a little bit. Steve doesn't look away from his food. He can't turn towards him.

James hesitates to talk to his therapist, to talk to Clint and Nat. He didn't think twice when it came to Darcy. He never talks to Steve.

His silence doesn't help the situation, so Steve picks the knife back up to spread some mayo. James doesn't even move though; he keeps his hands on Steve's neck and... contemplates. Like he's sorting his thoughts out before he says the wrong thing.  The longer he waits, the more scared Steve is to hear what they are.

His fingers finally squeeze--reassurance.

"I didn't even think about it," James's voice is calm and even. "She said 'get in the pool,' took her top off and jumped in and I... she was just _waiting_. So I did it. And she didn't look at it or ask about it. Not even for a split second."

Steve puts the knife down.

James's fingers slide down and press firmly into Steve's shoulders. He feels the knots there and uses his fingertips to soothe them as best he could. "You guys.... you knew me before it happened. Darcy didn't. It's reassuring to see that even... even after, people don't care about it. That's all."

Steve swallows hard. "You know it doesn't matter to us, either, right? To me?"

James reaches for him. He wraps his scarred fingers around Steve's, and Steve adjusts so that their fingers are weaved together. "Your opinion doesn't count because you're stuck with me, til the end of the line," James tells him. Normally it would be a gentle teasing, but his voice is too thick with care and attention.

Steve can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. When James sees it, he turns Steve's head, leans foward and kisses him. It's slow and deep--something firm for Steve to hold onto. Steve squeezes his fingers.

When James pulls back, apologies spill from his mouth. "I know you love me--I know you all care for me--it's like I need to remind my brain that you're not sticking around because you feel some sense of obligation that I'm broken.... I'm sorry that it's taking someone new to help me see that I'm not."  James swallows. "It doesn't help that I keep fucking up around you guys, and you all let it slide. She calls me out on my shit."

He's right. He's absolutely right about that. Maybe Steve, Nat and Clint had been letting him get away with too much, and that's probably because they weren't that great at dealing with their own demons. Steve swallows hard and nods, but he can't speak up. He lets his forehead rest against James's.

The hand is back on his neck when James can't stand not looking him in the eye. He squeezes. Steve meets his gaze and sees the fear and worry--and it's not worry about getting caught. "Do you hate her? I won't see her anymore." It's fear of losing Steve.

The cold in his stomach thaws a bit. It's a declaration Steve wasn't expecting, and it's exactly what he needed to hear. He wraps his hand around James's wrist, his fingers tracing over the skin. "No--I don't hate her. She's... she's wonderful."

James suddenly grins, because the mood's too harsh in the room and he doesn't have the emotional capacity to handle it for too much longer. "Should I be worried?"

Steve huffs a laugh, and James pulls him in for another kiss. Steve's mad at himself for not answering, for not being honest with him too, because James becomes so focused on Steve, and making Steve feel good.

 

\------------ 

 

_Three weeks later, the boys were back in the field in Afghanistan, taking a break from the espionage and undercover missions for a while. They were part of a team running protection to some big-shot weapons manufacturer. He was cocksure and arrogant and James and Steve were ready to kill him an hour into the mission. To be fair, the big-shot holds most of the military engineering contracts available, so he is sort of a big deal, but it would be so god damned satisfying to shoot his foot with a gun bearing his name--that's what James said to Clint, Natasha and Steve at the end of the first night and they all laughed to tears._

_The next day, the humvee that James's driving the big-shot around in gets ambushed. Steve is flying the chopper a few miles behind them, already out on his own mission, but hears the explosion over the radio and flies off like a shot towards them._

_James's arm is soaked in gasoline. He pulls the big-shot -- the only guy left alive in their car -- away from the flaming car. It explodes--James throws himself on the guy, but his arm catches fire from flying debris. Steve swoops in, lands, picks up the big-shot who helps bring a screaming James on board, and they fly off to safety._

_It's when James's laying in a hospital bed in London, his arm and neck bandaged, face bruised beyond belief, that Steve realizes how much he loves this idiot. The idea of him being dead fills him with sickening dread. The same dread of losing Peggy--and he doesn't want to disrespect the memory of her, and what they had, but he has to acknowledge that just getting this close to losing James.... the bile that rose in Steve's throat was worse than after Peggy. Watching him in pain is not okay._

_It's the same thing he felt when he watched James run off with all of those girls. He doesn't want to share him--not with random girls from the bar. And he needs to know that._

_He tells him so when James wakes up, and leans over the bed to kiss James as hard as he dares. James reaches his good hand up, cupping the back of Steve's neck, keeping him close a moment or two longer._

_"You're such a punk," Steve mumbles against his mouth._

_James has the energy to smile through it all. "Shut up, jerk."_

_"Don't do that to me again."_

_"... m'sorry."_

_They twine their fingers together just as Natasha and Clint come in to visit. Neither of them comment on it, but Natasha smiles. Clint turns on the hospital TV and they all watch/complain about cricket for a while._

_\---------_

_They end up in the Hamptons a few weeks later for their leave, living together, sharing a bed for the first time--and not just for sex, but actually sleeping, and getting used to the feel of each other and their sleeping patterns. Trying to cheer James up whenever Steve catches him brooding, staring in the mirror with disgust at the ugliness that is his arm. James kissing Steve's frown lines away, protecting him like when they were younger. Steve disappearing for a few hours when James's military-appointed therapist comes around for their weekly sessions. James trying his best, when Steve comes back, to know he's welcome when the therapist is around, when James has to bring up the bad things._

_And that's how James finally decides to do some work, get off his ass for the first time in months, and mows the lawn out in the backyard because at least he can say he did something, and catches sight of the gorgeous Darcy Lewis, and melts all over again._

 

  
\----------

JULY 12

\----------

 

After dinner one night, James suggested a game and Steve told him sure; there were plenty in the closet of their bedroom. James went in there to go over their options and accidentally sent Uno to the floor, cards flying everywhere.  
  
As he was picking it up, he noticed one of Steve's sketchbooks tucked under the dresser. James didn't think anything of it at first--Steve leaves sketchbooks lying around the way some people leave socks--so he pulled it out and tossed it towards the bed. At least they wouldn't walk all over it.  
  
He put the cards away and grabbed Taboo, and as he was turning to leave the room he saw that his casual toss had flipped the book open.  
  
First, James was worried at Steve had been drawing Peggy again. There had been an eight-month period after her death where Steve would draw her face over and over and over again, filling book after book, as if he was scared to forget her. James couldn't stop him; Steve came out of that on his own.  
  
But the woman in these pictures has long hair and thick lashes and ratty tanktops and blue nail polish.  
  
James sets Taboo aside as he stares at the pages. Sometimes it's her profile, and sometimes it's her eyelashes. There's one glorious drawing, absolutely perfect. She's laying on the beach; Steve didn't color her skin in--there's just the blush of her cheeks and the red of her lips  and the brown sand around her.  
  
It's gorgeous.  
  
It also sets off warning bells in the back of James's mind.  
  
Yes, James had been feeling guilty as shit lately. He had been so distant and Steve had been so wonderful. He's always been wonderful. James felt like he had made such progress, in coming to terms with his body and what it was now, yet took two steps back with Steve.  
  
When he had joked about being worried, he was trying to make Steve laugh. Then they had one of the best nights they've had together in, oh, _weeks_.  
  
But maybe ... he wasn't being a problem. Maybe there wasn't a problem.  
  
Maybe, what'd been happening for the last few weeks, wasn't a matter of them falling apart and growing apart. Maybe it was just about finding someone that fit into their broken crevices, and they were too scared to consider it.

  
\------------

 

When James took too long to come back, Steve went looking for him.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed with the notebook in his hands.  
  
Steve's heart pounded in his chest before falling into his stomach as James pulled out the notebook. The one full of Darcy.

He can't back away from the moment--James heard him, there's no doubt with these creaking, old floorboards. After a moment of building up his courage, Steve walks in and sits on the other side of the bed, facing him.

James closes the book and looks surprisingly calm when he stares up at his boyfriend.

Steve swallows thickly. "... I guess I have a thing for mouthy brunettes?" He offered.

The response was what he was hoping for. The corner of James' mouth curls up. "This could work out, then."

Steve frowns. "How? How can this work out? I mean... "

James shrugged, cutting his speech short. "You like her. Right? I know you do." He thumbs through the notebook pages, just the hear the paper snap, not really looking at the work. "You captured her perfectly."

Steve chews his bottom lip for a moment.

"Last time I saw you draw this good, it was me when we got home from Prague," James mutters. It falls off his tongue so easily yet Steve has never heard this observation. His cheeks pink at the comparison just as James starts too look a little uncomfortable. "And we both know that I like her, because I haven't been a very good boyfriend to you these last few weeks."

It feels good to hear him finally admit it--reassures Steve that he is a priority for him. James leans forward. "I know I haven't bothered being subtle or ... not like an asshole."

Steve looks away as he gently nudges his knee with his own. "You've been better, though. Since you've been around her. More like your old self."

"You deserve to be happy, Steve."

His throat is thick as he tries to swallow and he's quieter than he wants to be. "You make me happy."

James smirked, and it's a bit tired, but it's patient. "It's okay if she makes you happy too. Does she?"

"... yeah."

"Same."

James' expression goes soft at the mention. He reaches out for Steve's hand; their fingers lace together seamlessly.

Steve breaks the quiet first. "So ... what now?"  
  
"... we can see where it goes. See where she's at. See if she's even remotely interested."  
  
"That's an oddly apathetic way of approaching this."  
  
"I don't think we'll have to work very hard," James suddenly tilted his head. "I've seen her eying you. She's got a thing for your butt." As Steve blushed at the idea, James elaborated, completely deadpan. "We've _both_ got a thing for your butt."  
  
"Shut up, punk." Steve swallows hard. "So. We'll see where this goes."

James squeezes his fingers to reassure him. "We'll see where this goes."

"If anything happens, we need to promise to talk about it."

James almost looks like he'll resist. Because talking about things hasn't been a strong point of his, not for a while. So it surprises Steve and gives him a glimmer of hope when James leans up from the bed and whispers, "Deal," against Steve's lips before kissing him.  


\---------

JULY 14

\----------

 

The concept of sharing weighs heavily on Steve's mind for the next few days. He doesn't see her, and he has a harder time imagining what sharing could be like when he has only his memory to rely on. For a split second, a year ago, when they were in that hotel in Prague, his mind had raced at the idea of being with Nat and James, together. He had been worried. James was so head over heels for her that Steve was sure he'd be lost in the thick of it all. But Nat had set them straight (figuratively speaking).

But Darcy was nothing like Natasha.

While he's busy pondering the possibilities, the power is out in the neighbourhood as the worst storm of the year rains down on the Hamptons. Just as the landlord promised, all Steve had to do was get to the generator in the storage room and turn it on; the house was back in business. Just in case, though, they did turn off any lamp they didn't need and unplugged a lot of appliances.

While they were going around and turning things off, Steve took a moment to appreciate that the air conditioner was still working. He enjoyed the breeze for a moment before moving past the windows--and caught a glimpse of the dark house next door.

"You should invite Darcy over."

James was in the middle of unplugging things in the kitchen, but he stopped short, and poked his head into the hallway. "Really?"

It took a moment for Steve to nod, but he did, firmly.

Darcy came over mere seconds after Bucky texted her. The poor girl was soaking wet from head to toe but doesn't seem to care. Steve has to laugh at her before he disappears into his bedroom and comes back with one of his army shirts for her to wear. He can't lie and say she doesn't look good in his clothes.

They hunker down with some Monopoly, James cheats, Darcy and Steve run around the house trying to catch him--and this just feels so easy. Even when Steve turns the corner and sees them tangled up on the ground, Darcy looking a little more shellshocked at their compromising position. She blushes and pushes off him right away, heading back to the game.

James had gotten to his feet and walked right up to Steve. He raises his brow, questioning him.

Steve knows he can't get away with saying how right they both looked together. How right it felt to him. And he didn't feel jealous or bitter--he wanted to be part of that. But if he said that right now... he simply gives James a look and pushes him back towards the main room.

He can't say he slept easy that night.

Now, when he thought of Darcy... he didn't feel worried. But he didn't feel reassured, either.

He woke up before his alarm clock that morning. The early sun was shining brightly through the blinds--at least the storm was finally over. He grabbed his sweatpants and one of his teeshirts from the floor and pulled them on before going to the kitchen.

The newspaper was sitting on the front porch right on time. The coffee brewed. Steve was ready to relax like he always did--but he forgot about the girl on the couch. The girl that was hanging off the bottom end, legs twitching a bit as she slept, her hair in disarray and the blanket on the floor. Steve smirked--she slept like a kid. Kind of like how James slept, too.

The kitchen was full of sunlight and it was blinding, the porch wouldn't be a better option for reading ... and there was enough room for him already. So Steve sat on the last cushion of the couch, careful not to move too much, and drank his coffee as he read about foreign affairs and other world news.

Darcy shifted a bit as she slept--to the point where she scooted up the couch, turned her body and let her cheek rest on Steve's thigh like a pillow. He froze momentarily, waiting for her to wake up, but she didn't. He laid his hand on her hip, hoping to catch her if she did wake suddenly (he didn't want to pour coffee on her by accident).

She does wake up eventually. Her eyes blink open and she rolls up to look at him.

Steve grimaces. "Sorry. This is the only place to sit without the sun blinding you."

Darcy looks around the room and the brightness and winced. He felt for her--it was pretty harsh sometimes. " _I'm_ sorry," she muttered, and he felt her shift like she was getting up. "I'm invading your space."

"You're not."

Darcy pauses, and rolls to look back up at him. That's when he saw something besides the smirk on her lips. Darcy looked incredibly apologetic in that moment, to the point of feeling guilty. Why? Because of what Bucky did last night?

He wanted to tell her that was his fault--wanted to tell her about everything, what they were feeling--but he can't muster the words right now. He just wants her to stop looking so sad.

The fingers on her hip can feel the edge of her jeans through the blanket, even more so when he squeezes her gently.

"You're not invading at all," he tells her. "Stay."

Darcy looks away as soon as she can, curls back over and falls asleep.

He hears the floorboards creak.

James is leaning against the wall in the hallway, hair sticking up and out all over, hands in his pockets... and looking utterly pleased to find his man and his girl on the couch.

Steve shrugs as innocently as he can and goes back to reading the paper, like this is supposed to be some new kind of normal for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER: Darcy, and the boys, get a visit. It may be just what they need. 
> 
> (aka more Marvel characters yippeeeeeee)


	5. Everything just got stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends visit. Never have I Ever gets played. Sam wore crocs once. And things take a drastic turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEEEEEEEEEEY THIS TOOK FOREVERRRRRRRRRRRRr
> 
> Apologies for the absence. I was running around with family things/job interviews/quitting current job and getting a new job for the last two months. It's been a little dramatic around here. But hey, in honour of my last day of my old job, here, a gift for you all: a new chapter (that is 1,400 SHORTER than the last one, whoo-hoo!) AND some real progress. 
> 
> Enjoy! Thanks for being patient with me. I hope you like the banter!
> 
> MUCH THANKS TO typhoidmeri (tumblr)/merideathislost (Ao3) for all of our headcanon talk over the last month. She really walked me through all of this. Thanks, doll!!! (Also if you haven't yet, go read her stuff. SHE'S AMAZING.)

 

\--------------

JULY 17

\--------------

Darcy was finally on the last chapter of that damned book. She had attacked this 'summer read' with the same intensity that she used on her textbooks--purple and red sticky-flags hanging out of every page for reference, notes in the margins--and pride was swelling with every page turn closer to the back cover. Others would've given up in the beginning, but damn it, Darcy always finished what she started, even if it took all of her focus and even if she put off showering for a day or two.

(The intensity with which she dove into this book had absolutely nothing to do with her avoiding the Bucky and Steve problem. Okay? Okay.)

(And no, she didn't want to think about what she was going to do when she finally finished the book. She didn't want to think about the next step yet.)

So when she's lounging on her bed in her room, on the third-to-last page--the excitement of accomplishment slowly building and making her skin buzz--losing her concentration was the last thing she wanted.

_"Darcy!"_

Darcy frowned something fierce and glared up at the ceiling with an indignant huff. For fuck's sake, she was in the zone. And furthermore, why does Tawnia always insist on screaming across the house whenever she wants Darcy's attention?

"You have a guest!"

Wait, what? Who the hell? It wouldn't be James or Steve--they would've texted her first. And it's only been three days since she saw them last. Curiosity was her only driver. She left her book on the pillow, pulled on her shorts and started to make her way to the front door of the house.

She stopped short at the top of the staircase. Tawnia and Trish were greeting someone standing in the front hall--a petite brunette with stick-straight hair and judging eyes and a plaid shirt a bit too big for her.

When Darcy says 'judging,' she means (in the most loving way) that Jane Foster is always viewing the world how it relates to science. That's all.

Darcy gasped and hustled down the stairs, giving Jane just enough time to turn towards her before Darcy hugged her with more enthusiasm than anyone expected.

"You jerk!" Darcy told her, (not in a very loving way), "I asked you yesterday what you were doing over the weekend and you said you were staying home and packing!"

"Hey, the packing part was 100% true," Jane squeezed Darcy back as tightly as she could. She missed her intern something terrible--she was one of the few girls that could understand Jane, one of the only that found her work interesting. Darcy was genuine and Jane needed more of it in her life. "I came to New York a bit earlier than planned."

Darcy pulled back and gave her a look.

"Some stuff came up. I'll tell you later."

Oh. Right. They had an audience. Staring awkwardly, standing awkwardly.

"Will your guest be staying with us long?" Tawnia asked with a tight smile.

 

\----------

 

Darcy took Jane to the beach to enjoy the sea breeze. Well, Darcy enjoyed the breeze--Darcy was used to it by now, but Jane kept getting her hair caught in her mouth and was comically trying to pull it out as she talked.

"The drive out here wasn't that bad," Jane explained. "Finding a hotel on the main street that had a spare room was a pain, but I--"

"Oh please," Darcy frowned back as she bent down and pulled her shoes off, letting her toes sink into the sand. "You're not staying in a hotel, you're staying in my room. I've got Netflix and a stash of Oreos that I've been saving for a special occasion." (Because Jane and Darcy were at their best watching Netflix at two in the morning, eating oreos straight from the box, and solving all of the world's problems.)

Jane just rolled her eyes, but faintly, she was smiling. "We'll see. I don't want to impose on your aunt."

Darcy bit her lip on that topic for the moment. She knew Jane was being the grown up here (as she usually was) but Darcy was so focused on keeping the good parts of her life separate from the bad that she rushed Jane through the house and onto the beach as fast as she could. Tawnia gave Darcy an inquisitive look but said nothing other than _It's nice to MEET you, Jane_ , only to emphasize that Darcy was being rude.

It would just be easier tomorrow, after Jane's gone, to focus on the good memories with Jane without having to block out Tawnia from the moment.

Jane was pulling more hair from her mouth when Darcy kicked some sand in her direction. "You sneaky bitch," Darcy directed to Jane. "We were _just_ talking yesterday about how you were worried about finding an apartment--you were probably sitting in one, weren't you?"

"It's a loft. In Brooklyn. I've got a view of the river," Jane stated with no sense of smugness. She did frown though, and mumbled, "I still need a couch, though. And knives and forks."

"You're on your own for that. We all know I'm broke."

Jane finally offered smiled. "You won't be broke when those loans kick in. And hey, I can help you apply for a few grants when you're back in town." She nodded towards the house. "And all things considered, you're not doing too shabby for a broke grad student." 

Jane was throwing her a bone, but the small opening was all it took for Darcy to begin spilling her guts. She took a deep breath, crossed her arms and felt like a jerk. "I don't know how I'll make it through the next... eight weeks? Ugh," she rolled her eyes. "I mean, I realize I could be on the streets of New York, living out of my car, fighting off hobos trying to sleep on the hood and that crazy guy dressed like Elmo that hangs out in Central Park." She squared her shoulds and jutted her chin. "I just have to suck it up."

Jane scoffed and shook her head as she pulled her sweater closer to her. She wasn't used to the chill of the ocean yet. "You don't have to like your situation just because it's 'easier,' Darce. You're entitled to your feelings. If you feel annoyed, you're allowed to be annoyed." She gave her intern a stern look. "You and I are pretty much the same person and my Spidey-sense has been tingling since I walked through that door." Slowly, she looked behind them at the house, eying the tall white walls, and if Darcy didn't know any better, Jane was looking a tad ill. "Kind of feel like a vampire attempting to enter a church."

Darcy snorted and burst into laughter. "To be honest, I think Tawnia might suspect that you're my lover from the Big City."

"I picked up on that."  Jane smirked. "I'd play it up, but I'm already invading her space--"

"You're sharing a room with _me,_ you're not invading anything."

"That's beside the point, Darce. You want my advice?" Jane offered. "Pick up a hobby. Find something to pass your time with. Hell, go pick up a guy in town and pass your time with him."

Darcy spent a good long moment contemplating the ramifications of picking Jane up and tossing her in the ocean.

Instead, she took it for what it was--logic and wisdom only gained through years and experience--and gave Jane a side-hug. "I've missed you so much."   


\------------------------

  
They continued to trek down the beach for a while and Darcy may have made the effort to steer Jane _away_ from the cottage next door, and felt like a twit for doing so. She'd love for Jane to meet Bucky and Steve. She wanted her to like them, and vice versa--but things were still too muddy in her head for her to merge those two parts of her life.

She heard Duke bark once, though, in the distance. It made her jump and look over her shoulder, but he wasn't coming for her.

God, she couldn't believe Tawnia was getting to her so easily with her dumb comments. It wasn't fair that someone as judgmental and condescending could be right about the one thing that had been giving Darcy relief these last few weeks.

Tawnia was right because when she had gone over there the night of the storm, when James had pulled her close, the look on Steve's face said it all. If they weren't a couple, they were very much best friends and Darcy refused to step on someone's toes--especially Steve's, when she still knew so little about him.

James, oh, James was so easy to read and figure out. Becoming friends with him wasn't even an option--he opened up to her day by day and it all came too naturally to be avoided. Maybe they were too similar, but Darcy didn't care--the only dirty jokes she's dared tell in the last four weeks have been to him, and he's laughed along to every one of them.

But Steve? Steve knew how to be polite, accommodating, even sociable--but Steve was closed off. There was a hint of him at his birthday party, and again when she watched him draw when he thought he was alone... and after he caught her and James in that compromising position? Darcy may not know what's going on, but she certainly got the message that she was butting in where she didn't belong. Even if he had told her to stay. Even if he had looked at her like that. She didn't know how to tell if he was just being polite as he'd always been.

Steve was obviously in love with his best friend. Darcy had no business breaking them up.

This was a crush. A stupid little crush--actually this was two crushes, which just meant twice as much heartbreak for her if she really fucked things up. All she needed was a few days for her heart (and her hormones) to catch up with what her brain already knew. She'll get over it soon, hopefully.

... that's the next step she was avoiding. 'Getting over it.'

 

\------------  


Trish and Tawnia were all riled up when the girls came back to the house because David was coming to dinner. Apparently having Jane's extra mouth to feed was too much trouble, but David's mouth was fiiiine.

Gawd. This house.

Tawnia kept glancing back and forth between her niece and Jane like she was watching a damned Wimbledon match, waiting to pick up on the most subtle hint that something was 'going on' that would explain _everything_. "Darcy is a very easy houseguest," she announced. "Spends most of her time in her room, doesn't make a mess... it could be much worse." She eyed Darcy's ratty tank top and Darcy could practically hear her screaming, _Now if only we could fix her wardrobe_...

Thankfully Jane wasn't taking the bait. She pursed her lips and turned to Darcy. "C'mon. I'm taking you to dinner."

Jane. Lovely, lovely Jane.

She and Darcy piled into Jane's car (the same old Jeep that Jane's had for seven years that will crap out at any moment) and drove into town before David even showed up. They stopped at the first restaurant they found with an outdoor patio. The sun was just starting to set and there was still warmth in the air.

Darcy looked out across the patio, filled with couples and vacationers--typical Hamptons crowd--but it was still pretty laid back. The noise from the boardwalk two blocks over was faint and carried on the night air. Maybe Darcy would drag Jane into a dive bar. Maybe they'd hitch a ride home tonight. Maybe they'll go on all the rides until they barf. Could be fun. But for now she was admiring the twinkling lights strung up above the patio and the cars slowly going down the main street.

Darcy was brought out of her headspace when Jane hesitated, biting her lip, and began pulling at the label on the beer bottle in her hands. "I kind of lied earlier," she admitted feebly.

Darcy blinked a few times, completely confused. "What about?"

"... There _is_ a guy in New York."

Darcy's eyes bugged out so fast that she couldn't stop it. She knew her mouth was gaping but he couldn't close it. Excitement and shock rushed through her system until she almost shouted, " _Jane_. You never said a damn thing abou--"

"And I never said a thing about coming out here, either. People keep secrets, Darce. Get over it," Jane cut her off, completely on the defensive, but there was a distinct blush to her cheeks. It was so uncharacteristic that Darcy _actually_ shut up. Jane looked down at the beer bottle again and took a moment to calm herself. "... His name is Thor--"

Darcy snorted into her glass. Jane kicked her under the table.

"... He works in personal security. Owns the company, actually. Totally not my type. He's tall and he's got long blonde hair and you'd think he was a total jock dunce, almost a surfer stereotype, but he's... he's unbelievably sweet."

Even though it was hard to see at this angle with her brown hair hanging before her face, Jane's mouth was curling into a smile, full of happiness that couldn't be stifled. "He's romantic and caring and he's actually got a plan for his career..." When she looked back up at Darcy, she was sheepish as she confessed. "I know it's stupid to move in with someone after two months, but it feels... it's never felt this right before."

Then she bit her lip, and waited for best friend to say something--anything.

Yes, it was kind of stupid. How did she meet this lunkhead? Does she realize that this is so unlike everything Jane has ever said about relationships in the past, every pro-fem rant Darcy bore witness to, about not sinking into another person, about staying your own person? That's the Jane that Darcy needed right now, so Darcy could soak up her logic, and where was she right now? Shacking up with some dude in Brooklyn that she barely knows!

And then Darcy remembered her current predicament, and shrugged at Jane. "Do you have pictures?"

Jane laughed, and pulled out her phone, ready and willing. "I was so worried that you were about to throw every word I've ever said right back at my face."

"Eh, who am I to judge? Not like I've had a relationship last longer than two months." _Not like I haven't fallen head over heels for someone in just a few months. Damn it._

"What about Ian?"

"Oh, why did you bring him up?" Darcy grimaced before taking Jane's phone from her because she was taking too long. She flipped through a dozen pictures--my god, how many photos can someone take of astrology charts? "That was a bad idea. We totally got distracted from our studying."

Jane shrugged. "He was nice enough."

"He was very nervous. Like, all the time. I think I spooked him. I don't need to be with someone that I scare." She actually felt bad about Ian. He was sweet enough, but Darcy as too loud and brash for him. He never did anything wrong.

"Fair enough." Jane didn't press the issue, but she noted the change in her friend's demeanour. Jane nudged her foot against Darcy's leg again, in a comforting, sisterly way. "You'll find someone, you know. He's going to be great. And he'll get all of your stupid dirty jokes, but he'll still want to buy you chocolates on Valentine's day, even though you think it's dumb. He'll want to do it just to make you grin like a dork, because you will. You know you will."

Darcy pulled a face and Jane laughed because she thought the grimace was her genuine dislike of Hallmark holidays.

Darcy had that someone. The problem was it was two people. Now if only they could be the same person...

And then she found some recent photos on Jane's phone of this completely built, long-haired, blue-eyed _blond Adonis_ and she cursed at Jane like a sailor.  

 

\----------------------

 

Dinner was great. They caught up on all of the gossip that Darcy had been missing out on since the start of summer (scientists have a lot of drama in their lives, alright?) and Darcy couldn't help telling Jane some of the stranger aspects of living with Tawnia. Like her all-white wardrobe and her aversion to orange food (which for some reason includes both red _and_ yellow bell peppers). Darcy ordered something that had _all_ the colours of bell peppers. And an orange cocktail that was on the menu.

Once they were stuffed and Darcy forced Jane to take twenty of her dollars (considering the amount of empty glasses on the table belonging to Darcy, Darcy couldn't let Jane pay for _all_ of it), Jane leaned back in her chair and put her hands on her stomach. "Oh god. I'm so full. I need a walk."

"Hey, Darcy!"

The pair heard someone calling out as they approached the patio fence and turned towards them. Trish was hanging off the arm of a very put-together guy. This must be David. He looked like a typical WASP type; buttoned up shirt and shorts. Yes, this is what a business student at Harvard would look like... if said student had their dad pay for them to get into Harvard.

They weren't alone, which was a little surprising. In addition to David, there was a taller, beefier guy wearing a sweatshirt with HARVARD CREW boldly printed across the chest and a smaller, lankier boy that looked out of his element. He could barely look Jane and Darcy in the eye and the Crew Guy could barely look away from Darcy's tits.

That orange drink was suddenly not sitting well in Darcy's stomach.

Trish pulled David right up to the iron fence surrounding the restaurant patio. "David, this is my cousin Darcy and her friend Jane. Darce," and Trish did this thing where she smiled so hard it looked painful, "this is David."

Darcy ignored the Crew Guy for the moment and gave David a smile as she held her hand out. "Nice to finally meet you."

And then David did a once-over of her--not just at the usual cleavage spot, but he was assessing her _entire_ being. The ratty sandals that were barely hanging onto her feet. The jean shorts with a few too-many holes to be intentional. The black tanktop with a stain on the hem. And then he look at her boobs and smirked, as if he had her all figured out. "Pleasure's all mine."

Oh, _ew_.

Jane didn't look too great either, like she was a few seconds away from barfing. Trish didn't seem to notice either of their discomfort. "We're going to the boardwalk--you should come with us!"

Oh no. No way. This looked like some weird kind of triple date. That better not be what Trish was proposing. Darcy gave Jane a worrisome glance, but it was Jane that stood up from her chair and pulled her purse over her shoulder. "I need to walk this off anyway. We can hang for a bit."

Darcy suppressed a groan. This wasn't how she wanted to spend her night with Jane. But then again, Trish was actually inviting Darcy to hang out with her--making an effort to get along. Darcy couldn't ignore that.

But she did make a point when she bent down to pick up her purse and came up finding Crew Guy staring at her. She snapped her fingers in his face. "Hey, Titspervert!" (and he actually _jumped_ at her voice) "My eyes are up here," she looked at him with the deadliest glare she could muster. Crew Guy held his hands up, feigning defeat. Good. She wasn't going to put up with that all night.

Darcy and Jane joined the group at the front of the restaurant. They tried talking to the smaller friend but he seemed too nervous to speak up to them.

Trish did lean over at one point once there was a lull in conversation and grinned slyly. "So, Jane, the only time I've heard of gals speeding up their moving plans was because they've met a man. Is there someone waiting for you back in New York?" She winked conspiratorially.

Crew Guy and David looked mildly interested.

Jane replied without hesitation, almost absentmindedly, as she was staring around the hall at the knick-knacks and kitchy decor. "I'm an astrophysicist who just received a grant from the American Astrophysical Society to study nuclear outflows of star-forming galaxies in proximity to solar flares. At NYU. On a five-year contract." After a pause, she finally looked at Trish. "That's why I moved to New York."

Trish's blank face teetered on the edge of fear.

The boardwalk had it's usual hustle and bustle of people. The rides were going and the lights were flashing at the games. Crew Guy pointed out a dance hall halfway down the boardwalk that seemed promising. Darcy would've preferred to check out the games but, when in Rome, you're stuck doing whatever the other Romans are doing. Music blared and some folks were on the dance floor in the middle of the room, but it was too early for the place to be crowded. The group took a table near the dance floor; everyone ordered a cocktail or mix while Darcy and Jane ordered the cheapest beers on the menu. Crew Guy talked about training season. Trish was catching up on gossip.

No one talked to Jane and Darcy much once they sat at the table.

Darcy had been staring at the decor and when she looked back at Jane, she had her judgey eyes on and aimed her way. Darcy started and frowned. "What?"

Jane tilted her head. "Are you really okay?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. She couldn't get into anything around Trish and her friends. "Yes. I'm fine. I told you."

"No," Jane shook her head and her eyes narrowed. "You've been... quieter. Like you're hiding something."

Darcy frowned, knowing the jig was up, to some extent. She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward to talk as quietly as she could over the music. "I think I need to get laid. It's been way too long."

Jane snorted and rolled her eyes, but didn't press the issue. They had known each other long enough to recognize the deflection--Jane knew Darcy was brushing her off. But they at least recognized the signs that when one of them didn't want to talk about it, the other didn't ask about it. This is what made Jane and Darcy great. This is why Darcy would take a bullet for the girl, any time, any place. And _Thor_ had better look out because if Darcy doesn't trust him, he's got no idea what's coming to him.

"Okay, who the hell names their kid _Thor?!_ " Darcy suddenly exclaimed because it had been bothering her all afternoon.

Jane tossed a lemon wedge at her."His parents are Norwegian!"  


\--------------------

  
Halfway through her second beer, a song Darcy recognized came on the sound system. Darcy started to sway back and forth in her chair, trying to entertain herself at this point. She closed her eyes and grinned to herself.

"You dork," Jane half-laughed, and Darcy flipped her off without opening her eyes. "I'll get us another beer." She heard Jane's stool shift and heard her walk away.

"Wanna dance?"

That was David's voice. Darcy opened her eyes but narrowed them instantly. He was smiling her way but there was something off about it. Not entirely sincere. _Also, what the hell? Ask your own girlfriend to dance, you creep._ Wait, where was his girlfriend?

Darcy settled instead on saying, "Nah," and resumed swaying in her chair, ignoring how she could feel Crew Guy and Business Student staring at her. Darcy tried to look as subtle as possible as her eyes did a sweep of the bar, wondering where the hell Trish was, but she couldn't see her. Must be away in the bathroom or something. Jane was still walking towards one of the bars and hadn't seen the exchange.

Yet, even with her attitude, he didn't back off.

"You look a little silly dancing in your chair--"

"And _you_ need to learn to take a hint," Darcy cut him off, adding a threatening edge to her voice. Damn it, this asshole was ruining her buzz.

But then he wrapped his arm around her waist, grasped her hand and pulled her off the chair, holding her firmly enough that she wouldn't fall over. Darcy opened her mouth, ready to call David every creative insult she knew, and clenched her fist so she could punch him in the jaw--but when she reached to pull the hand from her waist, she felt the roughened skin beneath her fingers.

It wasn't until she was pulled on the dance floor and had stopped spinning long enough to catch her breath that she realized, this wasn't David.

It was James, his warm eyes and big smile all for her. Without missing a beat, James took advantage of her derp moment, pulled her close to him and started two-stepping her around the floor.

The shift in emotion--blood running hot and ready for a fight, to complete confusion and relief and happiness--made laughter bubble up and she burst with it as he pulled her around the floor. James just continued to look so pleased with himself for snatching her up. The arm around her waist pulled her closer as they danced--she could feel every breath he took.

Alright, Darcy really was in trouble. It had only been three days since she last saw him and she was over the moon all over again.

Darcy caught a glimpse of the table she was just kidnapped from. Trish was back, and everyone was staring at Darcy and her kidnapper. The boys, oddly territorial, gave him dirty looks. The girl sneered a tad when she saw James' arm. That's when Darcy realized... James was wearing a teeshirt. His scarred skin was completely on display.

Which was a-okay by her because those arms were _holding her close_ and they were _built._

He held her tight as he dipped her back and low enough for her hair to brush against the floor. Darcy cackled and lost her breath again when James pulled her back up to his big, shit-eating grin.

Darcy smirked. "I have to admit, you're saving me from what could be a pretty horrible night, Barnes. Thanks."

James turned her so he could sneak a glance at her table before he pressed his cheek to Darcy's and whispered in her ear. "Doll, what did I tell you about hanging out with boys?"

 

\------------------------------

 

"Unbelievable." 

Steve had his soda half-raised to his mouth before he paused and turned to Sam. "What?"

It was a bit strange to see Sam in his casual clothes--not in army garb or his professional clothes he wore for the VA--but the expression was typical. Sam had his back to the bar, his beer half-raised to his mouth, but whatever he was looking at was really, _really_ amusing to him and he was just shaking his head. Disappointment? Awe? Typical Sam emotions.

He quirked a brow at Steve and gestured towards the dance floor--Steve spun around on his barstool.

James had his arms all wrapped up in Darcy, dipping her so her curly hair hung down and touched the floor. She was laughing and holding as tightly as she could to James, especially when he pulled her up. He pressed his cheek to hers before spinning her back out.

He couldn't help admitted that his chest felt tight at the sight of them--in a good way. They were beautiful.

"That boy has more game that I realized," Sam admitted.

"That's Darcy," Steve explained. "She's staying with family next door to us." At that moment, James caught his eye; he grinned and winked as he slid his arm around Darcy. Steve ignored the heat in his cheeks.

Sam hummed and shook his head. "And here I thought he just hijacked a girl from a table full of jocks." And now, disappointment. The full spectrum of emotion.

Steve didn't have to look that hard to find who Sam was referencing; he spotted Tawnia's daughter and her disappointing sneer. All he wanted was to go snatch Darcy and James up himself, get them away from the judging eyes. Instead he turned back to the bar and focused on his glass.

Sam brought him back down to reality with a gentle nudge to his arm. "You've been hanging out with Darcy, too?"

Steve huffed a laugh. "Please don't psycho-analyze me in your downtime, Wilson--"

"Get over yourself, Rogers," Sam cut him off with a laugh. "I'm doing what friends do--they check in on each other."

Steve rolled his eyes and took  a sip of his soda. "... she's fun. She's easy to get along with. And she's really sweet."

Sam made another non-committal noise, except it was full of intent and Steve reached out to shove him gently. Sometimes, being friends with a therapist sucked.

"You know Darcy?"

The voice was loud but Steve almost missed where it was coming from. A short brunette--a little bit older than Darcy and her crowd--was at the bar, on Steve's other side. She looked amused; her eyes kept darting back and forth between them and the couple on the dance floor. She was definitely fighting back a grin.

Steve put on a smile. "We're neighbours." He held his hand out. "Steve Rogers."

She took it and shook firmly before reaching for Sam. "Jane Foster. The mentoring proff."

"Sam Wilson," he replied and pointed back out to the floor. "And that lady-stealing shithead is James Barnes."

Jane nodded and her eyes drifted back towards the dance floor. "He's a little ... blunt, but it looks like it's working out okay." She looked back at the table of angry boys before asking, hesitantly, "Would you mind if we joined you guys? Can't say we're feeling all too welcome at the table we came with..."

Sam hummed. "You sure? They look really eager to get Darcy back."

Jane scoffed. "You're hilarious." Sam grinned. The bartender brought her drinks over. She handed the guy her cash absent-mindedly, her eyes drifting back to the floor. The song was ending and Darcy finally pulled back from the boy. Her cheeks were a little flushed and her eyes were lit up. She hadn't seen Darcy look this good all day.

Obviously this is what she had been keeping quiet about.

The silence was a tad awkward and Steve ended up blurting out, "She's a great girl."

Jane resisted all the urge to roll her eyes. "Oh, she's something."

 

\----------------------

 

Darcy looked back to their old table and didn't see Jane. Shit, where did she go? Darcy's head darted around the bar--it was so much harder spotting Jane in a crowd considering how tiny she was--but she did a double-take when she finally saw her friend. Tiny Jane sitting on a stool at the bar, chatting it up with big, blonde Steve. Getting to know each other.

James grasped her hand and laced their fingers together. "C'mon, doll," he urged and gently began to pull her along. Towards Steve. Towards her and Jane jumping into Steve and Bucky's night out.

Darcy stopped her in her tracks. James felt the tug and stopped, turning back towards her. His smirk was gone, he didn't have any fancy flirtations on his tongue. He just looked a little worried at her hesitation.

Darcy paused before taking a deep breath. "Tell me I'm not butting in on your guys night out." That was a good way to phrase it. Totally. Except she could feel heat flush to her cheeks. It wasn't helping her keep a level head.

To her surprise, James smiled softly, sympathetically. He reached his other hand up as he stepped closer and brushed her hair back from her face before looking her in the eye. His hand cupped her shoulder and shook her gently. "You are _not_ butting in, Darce."

A million things crossed through their eyes. Her hesitation, her desire to leave them alone in fear of wrecking them, Bucky's insistence of her not being so hard on herself... This was probably the most real conversation her and Bucky have ever had and it was in the middle of a crowded dance floor full of beach revelers.

After a moment, Darcy sighed with defeat and James smirked with satisfaction. He pulled her hand again. "C'mon."  
  


\----------------------

 

Everyone turned when the couple approached. James shifted his hold on her and pushed against Darcy's lower back to propel her forward. "Look who I found," he announced gleefully.

"Buck, you didn't find her," Sam corrected him quickly. "You kidnapped that poor girl."

"Actually, we appreciate the kidnapping. Jane answered for both parties. She sighed and rolled her eyes at no one in particular. "If I hear the word _regionals_ one more time..."

Darcy laughed at her before she got James and Jane acquainted.

"This is Sam," Bucky wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulder and clapped his hand against his back. "He's from the army and he's always on my case."

Sam sighed, his shoulder sagging, as he dramatically complained, "For once in your life, it would be nice of you to introduce me to your friends without making me sound like a giant nag." He pulled a stool out beside him. "Ladies."

Darcy laughed nervously at his laid-on charm and took a seat. The introductions were taken care of with ease--Sam works for Veterans Affairs but knew Steve from basic training; Jane was Darcy's thesis mentor and was going to NYU with Darcy on grant work--and just as Darcy had expected, Steve and Jane were getting along great, even if he wasn't mentioning much. He was still polite and sociable. But then that nagging feeling of letting two parts of her life touch was getting to her. This was supposed to be a good thing.   
  
Darcy didn't realize she had been chewing her lip nervously until James reached up and gently chukked her under the chin. She jumped slightly and turned to him. "The hell, Buck?"

She was expecting a cheeky grin, or for him to point out that she was staring. She wasn't expecting the sad, sympathetic smile, or for him to lean close and whisper in her ear, warm breath on her cheek. "It takes a while for Steve to open up to folks."

Darcy flushed and pulled back. When she saw his eyes, he was decidedly blank, no smirk or snark in sight. Darcy squared her jaw. "He doesn't _have_ to open up," she insisted.  _He doesn't owe me anything,_ she thought.  
  
"He will," his tone is soft. "He wants to. He just needs a little push sometimes."

Darcy didn't know what to make of that.

 

 

 

 

... AND THEN EVERYTHING GETS STUPID

 

 

 

... And by stupid, we mean that Sam--who explained that he is a licenced therapist and has all sorts of psych degrees--had the grand idea that they should play 'Never Have I Ever.' He slapped some cash on the counter and asked the bartender for a bottle of whiskey.

"No, no," Jane brushed him off, "I drove tonight--"

"Steve's DD," Sam insisted, already lining up the shots. "And we can get your car tomorrow."

"Yeah, Jane," Darcy nudged her elbow into Jane's said, and wiggled her eyebrows. "You can get your car tomorrow."

Jane narrowed her eyes momentarily but really didn't put up much of a fight. She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I let you talk me into things."

"You love the adventures I take you on. Admit it."

This time Jane gave her the grin she was looking for and caved; Steve smirked a bit at the exchange.

James protested, though--because how old were they, seriously? and was this a joke?--and Sam argued back with a mockingly authoritative voice ("I am a trained professional and I know that drinking games encourage conversation and proactive discussion!") and then Darcy talked over him and started off with "never have I ever worn crocs" and _Sam cursed and took a shot_.

There was a bit of baiting, if they were being honest--for example, James said 'Never have I ever pissed on the Eiffel Tower after a long night of drinking,' which made Steve sigh with defeat and take a drink (of his soda, but STILL. Eye opener!) For another example, Jane said 'Never have I ever woken up in a parking lot the night after finals were done,' and Darcy cursed and took a shot.  They went at it for a full hour, until the bottle they bought was almost gone between Sam, Darcy and Jane.

The longer Darcy went, the more she opened up--her less-than-classy moments, her funny moments, the ones that made her giggle. There were a few times when she laughed so hard they were all sure she would fall off the stool. Steve and James caught eyes once or twice and they sighed, over and over. In spite of everything, this only built her up in their eyes.

Then someone (probably Drunk Jane) turned it into Truth or Dare. Because instead of asking another 'never have I ever' she pointed at James and dared him to go ride the mechanical bull in the corner of the bar without his shirt on.

Darcy and Sam were halfway through telling Jane she can't change the game, and pointing out that that _wasn't how Truth or Dare works_ , but James had shrugged his shirt off and was already making his way through the crowd.  And then everyone had their phones out and took _all_ the videos and pictures.

 

\----------------------

 

Bucky and Sam were supervising Jane's current dare (perform the full Macarena and don't skip any steps or ask for help) at the dance floor. Steve and Darcy were holding their ground at the bar. Darcy looked over to where her cousin was, but found their table empty. She had no idea when they had left. Or what time it was.

Darcy leaned against her arms on the countertop, head tilting to the side. Warmth was spreading through her veins and brought her to a chemically induced happy place. She's had enough that she can 'blame' the drink for her overly-dorky smile and her pressing questions, but she still had the wherewithal to make good decisions. She grins at Steve when he looks her way. Steve's smiling back at her, so he's not annoyed. This is a good sign.   
  
"Steven," she full-names him.   
  
He humours her. "Darcy."   
  
"Truth or dare."   
  
"Truth."

Darcy had been inspired by the question James asked Sam a moment ago (to describe, in detail, the weirdest sexual encounter he ever had (which he did with great pride and Darcy will never get some of that imagery out of her mind). So she gave Steve a saucy grin and asked, "Tell me about your first time."  
  
The amusement in Steve's eyes was gone in a blink. He had been raising his soda up to his lips and stopped short. What's worse, he looked away from her, eyes staring at some spot across the room.  
  
Oh, she regretted asking. She regretted asking so quickly. Oh shit. Oh shit. _Darcy, you prying, nosy, limp noodle, why did you have to go--  
_  
Darcy sat up straight on her stool and cleared her throat. "Forget it. Don't--"   
  
"It's okay."  
  
"You're clearly not comfortable, Steve," Darcy spun on the stool, ready to act like this never happened and was about to run off to the others at the dance floor. "C'mon, let's go find--"   
  
The warmth and weight of his hand was becoming a regular, familiar thing. From when she woke up on their couch and now, when he reached over and put his hand on her arm. He wasn't grabbing her, he wasn't holding her back. It was just a simple motion to show he was there, and present. Solid and reliable.   
  
He still wasn't looking at her though. "... her name was Peggy."   
  
Darcy slid back onto the barstool and Steve pulled his hand back to wrap his fingers around his glass. He played with it, sliding it back and forth between his palms--a nervous distraction while he spoke.   
  
"The first girl I ever really... dated. It was only for a month. Bucky actually hit on her first; she threw a drink in his face."  
  
It didn't feel appropriate to grin but the response was so automatic that she couldn't help it. When Steve glanced at her, Darcy bit her lips together to try to suppress it--but he chuckled at her reaction. "You would've liked her."  
  
Darcy shrugged. "... Kinda already do."   
  
His smile softened and he looked back at his glass. "... She died in a car accident the morning after." After a moment's pause--giving the words a moment, letting them have their space now that they finally had some air--he cleared his throat. "I didn't go to the funeral. I hadn't met any of her family. I felt like I would've been butting in."   
  
The euphoria was gone and replaced with clenching sadness. Of all the shit her boys had to go through...   
  
Darcy reached her hand out across the bar, palm up, without thinking much of it. Steve stared at it for a second before his fingers met hers. His fingertips were calloused compared to hers, causing a light drag when he brushed over her skin.   
  
"You still haven't answered the question," Darcy pushed. She was trying to distract him. Try to bring him back a bit.   
  
It was a bold move, pushing on the edge of being mean, but it had the desired results. Steve gave her a little side-eye, before he sighed, voice heavy with disappointment. "First time lasted three minutes and I didn't even get my shirt off."   
  
Again, Darcy bit her lips together--this time out of sympathetic embarrassment.  
  
Suddenly Steve looked smug as hell. "The _second, third_ and _fourth_ times, though--"  
  
"Holy shit!" She couldn't help exclaiming and it earned her a laugh from him. "In one night? Geeze, Steve!"   
   
Once the laughter subsided, Darcy felt a bit awkward holding his hand. Images of how long he could last in bed were floating through her mind and she was trying to be a good friend right now, trying to be supportive and help him out. Images of him shirtless were NOT the definition of being a good friend. So she pulled her hand back and crossed her arms, elbows resting on the bar top. "My first time was in the back of some guy's dad's Jeep. He thought kissing was foreplay and I didn't even finish."  She met Steve's raised brows and sneered. "It was pretty bad. Second, third and fourth times weren't much better either."   
  
_They're a bunch of boys,_ a voice that sounded distinctly like James' echoed through her head. She tried really, really hard to ignore it.   
  
She snuck a glance at Steve. His smile was easy, comfortable. They were almost back to normal, almost back before she asked the stupid Truth question.   
  
Steve cleared his throat. "She'd... Peggy would want me to be happy."  
  
She wasn't sure if he was reassuring her or himself. "... are you?"   
  
He considered it for a second. "... I'm getting there."   
  
She believed him to some extent. She didn't know enough about Steve, but what she could piece together... for a guy who was mourning his first girlfriend, to almost losing his best friend in battle, to trying to keep it together for him... but Steve still managed to smile and laugh and come out. And here she comes along, and Bucky opens up to her without much effort (at least it seemed effortless on her side). Steve was just watching from the sidelines and trying to do what was best for his friend.

She felt honoured that Bucky trusted her so much, but all she wanted was to get Steve to feel okay. Because maybe, in all of the hubbub and change, no one was paying much attention to how he was doing.   
  
Darcy slid off her stool slowly while Steve was still peeling at the label on his bottle. "Steve? ...can I give you a hug?"   
  
His eyes flashed up to hers--like her asking was so surprising--and he huffed a laugh he couldn't contain, but he put the bottle down, turned her way and held his arm out.    
  
Darcy moved to stand between his legs. Even with him sitting, her chin barely hit his shoulder, but she did her best to wrap her arms around his shoulders as she held him close. The stiffness under his muscles, the hesitation was there under his skin, but only for a moment. Strong arms were around her waist and pulling her hips closer, and she was easily engulfed in him.   
  
She felt so small.   
  
Darcy rested her cheek against his shoulder and moved one hand across his shoulders, palm pressing over his teeshirt. He mimicked the movement in his own way; one hand pressed against the small of her back and travelled up and down her spine. Even in a moment like this, weak and vulnerable, Steve felt strong and sturdy. If she ever had to lean on someone, she'd lean on Steve in a heartbeat. He was so good. He was so right and she only wished she could be half as good as he is.    
  
"Thanks, Darce," he mumbled into her hair with a chuckle.  
  
Had she said that last part out loud? And was she just imagining him breathing her in?  
  
And because she's still a bit buzzed and really says whatever she wants when she's buzzed, Darcy replied with, "I wanna be you when I grow up, Steve."  
  
And he snorts because what else can you say to that?

 

\----------------------------

 

"Your boss is insane."

"She's fallen over twice."

"She's not my boss, for the information."

"... are you trying to say 'for the record' or 'for your information'?"

"Shut up, Bucky!"

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

"He's Bucky," Darcy aimed her thumb at him. "James Buchanan Barnes. James Bucky. JBB."

"Oh _god_ ," James rubbed his temples and tried to blink the headache away.

"Hey, I've got an idea! Let's go to the beach. You know how cool the stars look in the middle of the ocean?! Darcy, let's go to the ocean!"

"Oh sweet Christ on a cracker. I think it's time we call it a night."

"Alright," Steve bent down and picked up Jane, slinging the tiny girl over his shoulder. She laughed and giggled as she went up and over. Drunk Jane was very much nothing like Science Jane or Sober Jane. Steve dug into his pocket and tossed a set of car keys at Bucky. "I'll take this one back in her car," he gestured to the tiny scientist. "You take Darce back in our car."

"Sure thing, cap," James joked, saluting him, which only got him a glare.

"Steeb!" Jane called out. "Truth or dare!"

Steve was humouring everyone today. "Okay, Jane. Dare."

"Kiss Darce!"

Oh, Jane's lucky that Darcy didn't have anything to throw at her. Otherwise Jane would be getting some projectile warfare.  "Can I object to this dare?" she spoke up loudly, deadpan, to show her discomfort over the idea. Her plan was going to shit. Damn it.   
  
Jane waggled her finger at her. "Shh, intern. Just accept the gift I've given you. Ravage the mouth of the Adonis and then send me a fruit basket to say thanks."  
  
"Oh for _fuck's sake_ ," Darcy groaned and walked away while Sam and James burst out laughing.

The group split up and Darcy followed James to the back of the dance hall, occasionally swaying into him as she walked. Eventually Bucky put his hand on the small of her back to steady her. It helped. The Range Rover was tucked in the corner. James hammed it up by holding the door open for her as she got in.

Once he got the car started and pulled onto the road, they ended up driving past the restaurant from earlier. It was reassuring to see Sam and Steve helping Jane into her car--at least they weren't lost and couldn't find it. James honked at them humorously and Sam flipped him off as he struggled to sit Jane in the back seat.

"So," James gave Darcy a look and a smirk. "The drunk scientist."

Darcy let out a loud sigh. "Jane Foster has multiple master degrees but she _cannot_ handle her liquor." She stopped and thought for a moment. "She's got a boyfriend now, though. I never expected her to turn into a Smug Married Type when you got a boyfriend." The 'kiss' dare couldn't be completely ignored. James would bring it up eventually.

James made a face. "Smug Married?"

Darcy tilted her head. "A la Bridget Jones?" She did her best to mimic a British accent. "When're you going to get married, Bridget? Don't have much time left, tick tock tick tock, just wait till you're as happy as we are, _Bridget_?"

Bucky snorted. "She just wants to see you happy, Darce."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know."

The car was quiet after that. Darcy flicked the radio switch on. It was something soft, acoustic. It was the perfect soundtrack to driving home in the middle of the night with only the moon and stars lighting up the road. Darcy leaned against the door and just enjoyed the silence.

They reached the house in no time, and James pulled the Range Rover up against the garage, but didn't turn the car off right away. Darcy unbuckled her seatbelt, but she knew that the others weren't right behind them. Who knew how long it took to Steve and Sam to wrestle Jane into her car--

James reached over and put his hand on her knee.

Darcy lifted her face and looked at him. The air between them changed. Suddenly her vision was full of him, his eyes and stubble and lips.

Bucky kissed her. There was urgency there but he never pushed too far. He licked across the seam of her lips, enough to taste the nachos Jane had demanded earlier because she was 'fucking starving.' James reached into her space, his arm wrapping around her, then sliding down her--his hand squeezes her thigh _hard_.

And then the lights of Jane's car filled the inside of the truck.

He pulled back, it was only by an inch so he could press his forehead against hers. His breath was hot--her chin itched from his stubble. Darcy shudders.

And then he looks back at the road, behind them, turns off the Range Rover, and gets out of the car.

Steve parked Jane's car back at Tawnia's house and James walked Darcy over to them all. Steve helped bring Jane to the front door of Tawnia's place, and once he was sure they'd be okay, he smiled brightly and wished them a good night. James smiled at her and told her to have sweet dreams.

Darcy got Jane into bed and then spent a really, really long time sitting on the edge of the bathtub, catching her breath, watching the small, finger-tip shaped bruises on her thigh form, and wondering if Steve saw them when those headlights flashed over the Range Rover.

Everything just got stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahahahhhahhahah


	6. Head spinnin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to Meri for being wonderful and wise. 
> 
> Otherwise, this is presented without comment.

What would I do without your smart mouth?   
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out   
You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down

\- 'All of Me,' John Legend

 

\-----------------

JULY 18

\-----------------

 

Darcy woke up to Jane's arm flung across her neck. 

She smacked the tiny scientist, who only groaned and rolled further over Darcy.

Worst bedmate ever. 

\------------

"I hate everything," Jane announced.

"That's not true," Darcy deadpanned, too busy brushing her messy hair into a ponytail. "You loved Never Have I Ever last night."

"No snark," Jane mumbled. She was sitting on the edge of Darcy's bed, freshly showered but still thoroughly hung-over. She was leaning forward with her head in her hands, her brown hair curtaining her face so she could hide from the world. "Just get me coffee." There was a pause and Darcy didn't reply. "... please?"

"There's the magic word," Darcy put her brush down once she was satisfied with her hair. She turned back to Jane and patted her head gently. The little scientist groaned. "Just remember how nice I am when you have to go face the rest of my family downstairs."

Jane groaned so hard she practically wailed, because she had obviously forgotten about  them , but when she lowered her hands she raised her head and got to her feet, mustering all of her energy into looking presentable. Just looking at her made Darcy feel exhausted and she counted her blessings--her ability to bounce back from a long night out was, obviously, a gift from god.

The ladies made their way downstairs, Darcy dumped Jane's bag by the front door, and they faced the firing squad waiting for them in the kitchen. 

Of course, the rest of the house was awake and looked far too perky for this time of day. Trish was eating at the table and her dad was reading the newspaper, completely unaware of everything. 

Tawnia, dressed head to toe in linen, was in the middle of pouring some coffee but stopped to look at Jane. The smile was flat, the eyes were wide, the tone was suggestive. "Good morning, Jane. Did you have a bad sleep? You don't look so good."

Oh, so much passive-aggression. Darcy ignored it for the moment and focused on fulfilling her promise to her friend. She squeezed past Tawnia and took the coffee pot from her. When she looked up, Trish had her eyes on her. She had stopped eating and looked wary of her. Crap, Trish was probably mad that they ditched her last night--now there was a cold grossness curling in Darcy's stomach, along with every other lovely feeling she had this morning. 

Jane may be more mature than Darcy--but part of growing up was knowing to pick your battles. This was a battle she was ready for. She put on a big smile and even mustered up the energy to force enthusiasm. "The beds in your guest room are  so amazing,  Tawnia. Like,  really  good job at picking those out.  Super fluffy." 

Darcy snorted and tried to focus on filling a pair of coffee mugs without spilling any but  oh my god did Jane just talk like a Valley girl?

Tawnia wasn't having it. Whatever was left of her smile disappeared. "Trish said she saw you both last night, but then you disappeared? How did you get home last night?"

"The guys next door drove them home," Trish answered before Darcy or Jane had a chance to. 

Now Tawnia's eyes narrowed and looking to Darcy. She tsked and sighed, and how could such little noises manage to be so disappointed? "Oh, Darcy-- again with those two?"

Darcy quickly threw some sugar cubes into the mugs (three for Jane, one for Darce) and picked them up. "Neither of them drank last night, so if that's what you're worried about--"

Of course that wasn't what she was worried about. "You should have stayed with Trish--Bradley and Jonathan said they were interested in meeting you both." 

The names weren't ringing any bells. Darcy blanked.

Trish rolled her eyes. "David's friends?" 

Oh, god, Titspervert and Business Student ? But no, this wasn't the time to have a fight about this. Darcy bit her tongue and gestured to Jane, who was already sneering at the suggestion. "C'mon, let's go to the porch," she told her as she ignored her aunt.

Jane took the hint and  grasped the offered coffee like it was a lifeline, but she couldn't leave without one last dig. She smiled very wide, ear to ear, and put on the Valley accent one more time. "Oh, and by the way, Trish--David is a real stand-up guy. Super awesome. Totally. A  real  gentleman," by now the smile disappeared and Jane was almost venomous. "Have fun with  that ." 

"My god,  Jane ," Darcy gave Jane a shove down the hallway before anything else started. 

\-----------------

They sat on the front porch, coffees in hand, Jane's bag at her side, sunglasses on the scientist's face. It was a bit chillier that morning but not completely uncomfortable. Darcy kind of wished she ran inside and grabbed a sweater, though-- but she just clutched her steaming mug instead. 

"What does Tawnia have against them?" Jane finally asked, now that her head wasn't pounding as hard as before.  She nodded towards the house next door.

Darcy's skin prickled a tad when she let her mind wander into all of those thoughts. "She seems to think they're .... not the best people for me to be hanging out with." She only continued when Jane raised her eyebrow inquisitively, urging her on. "The only argument she's come up with so far was that ... they must be gay." 

Jane scoffed so hard she almost spilled her coffee. "Oh dear, is that all?" 

"Right? Heaven forbid," Darcy tried to laugh it off. "I can't tell if she's worried about their alleged homosexuality will rub off on me, making me ineligible for courtship or marriage, or if she's worried that I'm just going to  waste away  my summer with them instead of spending it out there, finding an actual  eligible bachelor ." 

Jane chuckled, and actually stayed quiet for a moment, which Darcy wasn't expecting. Snark, jokes, comments about Tawnia living in the 1960s--none of that. Instead, Jane nudged her knee against Darcy's. "You like spending time with them?"

Darcy ducked her head, only because she was worried what Jane could read off her face. She worried about how obvious she may be with these stupid crushes, if they were written all over her face. "I met them on the beach--at different times--and it was just so...  easy . Like when I first met you and I asked if you had any more of the poptarts you were eating--"

"--and we both knew we were  perfect  for each other," Jane finished for her, because that moment was magical. All other friendships awesomeness were based off that moment. "You don't have to work at it with them. That's why you like them."

Darcy nodded and stared down at the dredges left at the bottom of her mug. "Exactly. They're making.... they're making this summer a lot easier for me." 

"Then fuck whatever Tawnia thinks," Jane insisted, before knocking back the last of her coffee. "You're only staying in a room there, Darce. Be polite, but don't let her walk all over you and dictate your life otherwise. It's your summer, it's your time--you want to spend it playing drinking games with those two," she gestured her mug to the cottage next door, "Then, shit, go for it. It's only for the summer." 

That was something that was weighing on Darcy's mind. It was only for the summer. She only had to put up with Tawnia for another five weeks. She only had five weeks left with Steve and James. She only had to sit on this crush for another five weeks. The deadline of August was very prominent in her mind. 

Suddenly Jane's arm snaked around Darcy's shoulders and she hugged her close. "You'll be okay," she told her. 

Shit. It was obvious. It was so obvious. 

Darcy let out a deep breath and shook her head, mostly over herself. "I'll get over it," she tried to reassure her. Or was she reassuring herself?

Jane squeezed her. "You don't have to get over it." 

\--------------------------------

  
  


The morning may have been chilly, but nothing felt sicker or colder than watching Jane drive down the road and away from her. 

Darcy tried to put on a brave face when Jane waved at her in the rearview mirror, knowing full-well that Jane could see her watery eyes, but as soon as that car was around the corner and out of sight, Darcy took a shuddery, tearful breath. 

She didn't want to go back into the house. She was too nervous to go next door because ... well,  that . She hadn't even had time to process  that . 

So she stalked around to the back of the house, walking along a rough path, until she made it to the beach. It was colder back there, but she still couldn't be bothered to run for a sweater or a blanket. The cold was numbing and it helped. 

She sat in the sand, watching the grey clouds roll overhead, let the sea breeze brush her tears away. 

Fuck. How was she supposed to be an adult when she always managed to fuck everything up? She couldn't put one foot in front of the other without Jane. Her cousin was mad at her for their behaviour (and did Darcy have the guts to tell her the reason they bailed was David? No, but she should). Tawnia wanted to have more  words  with her over her choice of company. 

And Steve and Bucky, the two who had made her feel so  human  and  real  this summer... she may have fucked that up the most by letting Bucky kiss her. 

She didn't want Steve to hate her. She didn't want to turn Bucky away, not when he felt so rejected lately. 

There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to run, and she was too chicken shit to face her problems. So she sat on the beach, crying quietly to herself, and let the chill numb everything for a while. 

That is, until she heard a bark. 

Darcy had only a moment to look up before she had a face full of Duke. The golden retriever made quick work of knocking her over and licking her tears off her face. Darcy had to give him a hard shove before he got off (and even then, Duke staid in her lap, too happy to move) and that's when she realized the dog wasn't alone. 

Sam took a seat in the sand right beside her and before she could hide her face or come up with an excuse, he had a friendly arm around her shoulders. "You don't have to say anything," he told her. "Sometimes, the best thing is to let it out." 

So Darcy leaned onto this guy's shoulder and cried and sniffled and appreciated the warmth of Sam and Duke until she was all out of tears. 

"Look, I know it's none of my business," he starts gently, easing her into it, but Darcy still bites her lip and steels herself. Nonetheless, Sam seems sincere. He's got one of those faces that's easy to trust. He tilts his head and looks up at her. "But there is one reason that you and Bucky get along so well."

Darcy starts. Sam grasps her shoulder and gives her a gentle shake. 

"You two overthink  everything . It's  so  frustrating." He gives her one last shake to make his point. "Life's short, Darce--'seize the moment' may sound corny, but it's better than living with regret over a missed opportunity." 

Darcy paused and was very close to saying,  You wouldn't be saying the same about Bucky if you saw what he did last night,  but thinks better of it.

"... we could also try skinny dipping. Do you wanna try skinny dipping?" 

"... Oh my god, for a military-appointed therapist, you are  such  a bad influence.”

"Shh--don't question my methods. They work." 

Darcy gave him a playful shove and Sam just laughed.

\-------------------

  
  


James didn't like being watched, but it seemed to be his lot in life lately. He was basically property of the government, and taking a vacation on their dime. Of course he was being watched. 

No, that's not it. Don't paint  him  that way.

James turned away from the bedroom window that faced the beach--faced the neighbours, faced Sam and Duke comforting a fairly upset Darcy--and looked back to Steve in their ensuite bathroom. He could practically feel those blue eyes clawing up him, wracked with worry, while the rest of him was clean from a shower after his morning run and brushing his teeth in the mirror. 

Finally, James walked up behind him, reaching around to set his coffee mug on the counter top. 

Steve stared down at it before he was distracted by James wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, his forehead resting at the nape of Steve's neck. This was oddly intimate this early in the morning, but Steve wasn't about to turn him away. He rested one hand over James', holding it close.

"I kissed her last night," James mumbled into his neck. 

He must've felt the little chill that ran up Steve's back. He was pressed right against him. Steve's brushing slowed to a stop and he paused, unsure of what to do. This was coming. This was the agreement--let them know what happened, if anything happened at all. He had time to prepare--and, obviously, they both knew without saying that James was going to make a move on Darcy before Steve would--and he thought he was ready to shove away any jealousy that he may feel. But now, in the moment, he felt quite blank. 

The silence was breaking James' resolve. The hand on Steve's stomach twitched. 

"... I don't think it went over well." 

... Okay, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. 

Steve kept a hold of him, kept him close as he bent over and spat in the sink and put his toothbrush aside. When he stood up, he looked at James in the mirror--only his eye and his scraggily hair was visible. But he was nervous, scatterbrained, completely unsure of himself--and grabbing whatever he could hold on to.  That much was obvious through the little Steve could see.

Completely  not  how this was supposed to go. God, Bucky stood a better chance than Steve did, and if he was striking out... 

Steve put both his hands on James' arms and squeezed, gently, thumb brushing over the back of his left wrist. "What makes you say that?" Steve spoke in a calm, even voice. 

James swallowed hard and looked away from the mirror. "I just... she said something about Jane and hinted at the dare. I leaned over and...  did  it."

Oh, Steve knew what dare he was referring to. Jane spent the entire drive back to the house telling Steve that he needs to just stick his tongue in Darcy's mouth  because she's my girl and she's in need of a solid French from a hunk like you. C'mon Steve, she's a taxpayer, you're an army guy--you owe this to your country, which includes her. C'mon, Steve, promise you'll do it! Swear on a bald eagle! 

Fuck, Steve will never live it down if Sam tells anyone what happened. 

Steve ignored the pinking in his cheeks for now and tried to focus. "Did she say anything?"

He felt James shake his head. "You guys pulled up with Jane. And that's it." 

"That's all?"

James sighed, a hot and heavy breath prickling Steve's skin. "I saw the look in her eyes before I got out of the car. She... I fucked it up, Steve. She looked so...  disturbed ." He shook his head. "Maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe she doesn't want anything to do with us."

Steve couldn't help grimacing. "Well, you probably could've done that better..." he tried to be gentle with the admission, but he still felt Bucky sink against him, defeated.  He gently leaned back into his boyfriend's hold. "I  was  going to tell you that I made some progress last."

James lifted his head, curiosity killing him. 

"I told her about Peggy."

It took a second for James to register the gravity of the situation, but then his eyes widened.  "... You  told  her--"

The fact that he managed to pull James' mind out of whatever dark place it was retreating to made this worth it. Steve turned in James' hold to look him in the eye. "Darcy gave me truth or dare and asked about when I lost my virginity--and," Steve stopped, his hand clenching into a fist before relaxing, smoothing out the fabric of his pants. "... I didn't mind. I wanted to tell her. And it... it went well."

James raised a brow. "...  Well. "

Steve avoided his gaze. "She asked for a hug."

James finally smirked. Steve shoved his shoulder. "Shut up." 

"I told you."

Steve sighed and turned back to the sink. "Look, what did we say? We'll see what happens. I had some progress, you may have jumped the gun--" he looked at James in the mirror. "We'll see what happens." 

James knew he was right. He reached and squeezed Steve's shoulder. "When did you become the reasonable one in all this?"

"I've always been the reasonable one--I was just a bit slow in this case." 

James tugged Steve back in for a kiss--quick and warm--and walked out without a word, although he wasn't feeling much better. 

Sam was back when James left the bedroom, resting back on the couch, paper in hand, coffee in the other. And he was making that face that James hates sometimes--like Sam's trying to act innocent and inquisitive but still manages to look like a know-it-all. 

"You okay?" he asked. 

James huffed and made his way back to the kitchen. "Never mind, Sam."

"C'mon, don't be like that," Sam tried, but his charge wasn't budging. Instead, Sam shook his head, deciding to let this one go. "You'll have to do better than that for the test today." 

His words made James pause in the hallway. It took a long pause--a moment's hesitation before a decision--before he moved again. 

\-------------------------

By the time Darcy went back inside, enough time had passed for the family to disperse from the kitchen. Only the housekeeper was left, and she was cleaning up from breakfast. 

So Darcy steeled herself as she made her way back to her room, not sure if an attack would spring out from behind a china cabinet or the stuffed deer in the den.  But the surprise attack didn't come--it was much more direct. 

Tawnia was coming down the stairs as Darcy was heading up, a look of determination on her face. "There you are," she began, and Darcy gripped the banister, willing herself to stay calm. 

"We're taking David's parents to have dinner with the president of the yacht club tonight," Tawnia suddenly explained. 

Oh. Okay. So she was on a different kind of mission--Tawnia was in hosting mode. 

"It will be quite formal--Trish is already in town looking for a proper dress," and there it was. Tawnia's eyes looked up and down Darcy's body, all the way up to her messy updo. "You're not required to attend tonight. You wouldn't fit in."

And she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. 

Wow. 

In all her years, Darcy was sure she had never been so thoroughly dismissed before. 

If this had happened half an hour ago, combined with the helpless feelings from earlier, Darcy was sure to have had a mental breakdown. She'd be in her car and driving to New York and busting up Jane and Thor's love nest. 

But Sam was right. She needed to stop overthinking everything. Yes, the situation is getting awkward, but she wasn't at Threat Level: Danger just yet. Deal with it as it comes, don't get worked up over nothing.

And later when Darcy saw one of Tawnia's toy dogs poop on the carpet, she didn't think too much about what she did next.  


She picked up that poop (with plenty of tissue) and deposited the stinking shit in the right foot of Tawnia's Dior heels. 

The shriek she heard later made it completely worthwhile. She'll have to thank Sam for his advice.  

\---------------------------------

Around midday, Sam announced that it was time to get going. 

Steve stood by awkwardly, his hands stuffed in his pockets--his bulky, large form appearing small and feeble in this moment. He hated these moments before they went off. Today was different, though. Today would decide what happens next, when summers over, what would happen to them. 

James looked fine, in spite of the pressure. He was relaxed as he pulled on his jacket and followed Sam to the car. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to make it a bit more presentable. He caught Steve's eye when he did it and shrugged--this was as good as it was gonna get. 

Steve just bit his lip together. He followed the guys out to the Range Rover and opened the trunk for Sam to throw his bag inside. Sam pulled Steve into a tight, wordless hug, because that was all they needed. 

James, on the other hand, saw the concern. He saw the hands stuffed in pockets. When Steve turned to him, he pulled him close and kissed him firmly. He didn't pull back until he could feel the tension flow from Steve's body. 

He pulled back with a light nip, eliciting a grin from Steve. "I'll be home late," was all he said. 

Steve swallowed and nodded. "Kay." 

Steve stood back and watched as they piled into the car and drove off, staring at the retreating license plate. It wasn't until the car was out of sight that Steve finally let out a shaky breath and ran both hands over his hair, pulling at the ends, feeling the bite at the roots. 

Along with his own thoughts for the next five hours. Lovely. 

A heavy, chilly breeze blew through and Steve shivered and looked up at the sky. It was grey and dark over the water. Common sense took over and he turned back to the house, but not before spotting something in the corner of his eye. Someone standing in the window of the house next door. 

First, he perked up, thinking it was Darcy. 

But instead, it was Tawnia. Dressed for a night out. Filled brow high on her head, lips pursed with disdain. 

Steve just turned away from her and went back inside. 

\-------------------

Darcy thought she'd enjoy the alone time.

Darcy did Tawnia a favour by staying out of sight when David and his parents arrived at the house--although it was a favour to Trish. Darcy was pretty sure that the next time she saw David, she wouldn't be able to hold back ripping him a new one. So she stayed in her room until she heard everyone file out of the house and heard the  thud  of the front door closing. Darcy paused a moment, holding her breath--and heard no one. 

First things first: she went into the living room and plugged her iPod into the sound system. That held her over for an hour or so as she cooked up some dinner (the closest she could get to a pizza with the ingredients available, which consisted of a gluten-free tortilla, organic tomato sauce, baby spinach, and the pathetic excuse for low-fat cheese that was in the fridge. God, it was awful. You're better off not eating cheese than eating that freak crap). 

But then Darcy found herself wandering from empty room to empty room. This place was too big. The tile floors were too cold and the echoes of her footsteps were too loud.  

But not loud enough to shut up the voice in her head. 

Darcy was completing her third lap through the kitchen and looked out the window. A storm was brewing over the ocean, low and rumbling. The whole day had been chilly and gross, and not just because of Darcy's mood.  

The cottage next door was dark except for some flickering light. 

Maybe Duke was home. 

She knew where their spare key was (Bucky showed her one day, under the pretence of giving her free access to the dog).

Darcy pulled her sweater closer over her body and hustled across the sand, through the boys' backyard and up the steps. And it's when she was on their porch that she saw the warm glow of their fireplace filling the room. 

Someone was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, staring at the flames. He looked up when he heard her footsteps. Darcy couldn't exactly back off now, caught in the act of searching for unconditional animal love.

She opened the patio doors. 

Steve's whole expression seemed tired and worn. She hadn't seen him in such a state before. It didn't help that he seemed to be mustering up his energy to smile at her when he told her, "You're a sight for sore eyes." 

It wasn't hard for her to smile back--how could she not smile at Steve?--but she did feel a pang of guilt. Would he be as happy to see her knowing she made out with his best friend/crush last night?  

"Do you make a habit of sitting in the dark by yourself, Steven?" She tried to be as saucy as possible to lighten the mood.

It earned her a smirk and then he patted the space beside him. Darcy took up his invite and shuffled over and parked her ass on the floor. Normally she would hear Duke bark and rush over at this point, or hear James moving around. "Where Bucky? and Duke?" 

His smile faltered. "He's going to be out late. And Duke's sleeping in the guest room. Sam and I both took him for runs today so he's wiped out."

Darcy knew better than to ask, considering the mood of the room. This wasn't the same as last night, when things were warm and buzzed. As she sat down, Steve moved forward and put another log on the fire. He settled back against Darcy--she felt him, from thigh to shoulder. He may have realized that he was sitting a bit too close, but instead of rectifying the situation, he adjusted by laying his arms on the back of the sofa. She couldn't resist leaning into his shoulder. He was too damn warm and she was still cold from the walk over. 

He didn't push her away.

There was something comforting about the crackle and fizz of a roaring fire. Darcy stretched her toes closer, allowing the heat to seep in. 

" 'snice," she murmured after a moment. 

Steve hummed, low in his throat--his chest rumbled beneath her ear. "Don't get a lot of opportunity in the summer to use it, but tonight was cold enough." 

Darcy nodded gently, and then she heard a different kind of rumble. It came from much lower, and it was loud enough that she raised her head and looked at his stomach. Steve was already groaning with embarrassment before she asked, "Didn't you eat supper?" 

Steve raised his arm and scrubbed his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. "Must've forgot." 

It's ten at night, how does someone simply  forget  to eat? If Darcy hadn't eaten something real before eight, she was basically miserable to everyone she encountered. But Steve had been sitting here, in the dark, without Bucky... and she didn't know why. 

So instead of ask all the judging questions in her mind, she focused on the more important things. She jumped to her feet and made grabby hands down at him. "C'mon." 

Steve eyed her hands suspiciously--as if she could help him up, he was huge in comparison to her short frame--but Darcy raised a brow and pursed her lips,  daring  him to make a joke. So Steve bit his tongue and grabbed her hand and did most of the work himself, but allowed Darcy to tug him until he was standing. And then she tugged him all the way to the kitchen. 

Darcy turned on the kitchen light, killing the mood lighting, but she needed it to search through the pantries and the fridge. She found a box of pasta and they had enough veggies and some tomato sauce in the fridge. This was much more her taste. "This should hold you off 'til morning," Darcy said, as she started pulling ingredients out. "And we can make enough for James to have some when he gets home." 

Steve doesn't say anything. He takes the mushrooms from her and pulls out a cutting board and knife and starts to chop them up. 

Darcy busied herself by putting some water to boil and searched for the spices and the cooking spoons. She got the pasta in the water--and the entire time Darcy's skin felt tight. Again, the question that swum through her mind and always came up whenever her thoughts went to Steve: was he being polite or was he closing her off? Did she barge in again?

Was it possible that he saw the kiss? Was it possible that he knew? He'd barely said ten words since she showed up, and maybe he didn't want to talk about James because... well, what if they had had a fight after Steve caught James in the act? And even if it was about her, he was too polite to kick her out of the house? He had plenty of opportunity to buzz off. 

Darcy tried to calm her shit. She was over-thinking things again. 

"So...," Steve's voice brought her out of her mindspace, "Sam." 

Darcy perked up. "Ah, Sam," she sighed dramatically. "How the hell did that guy get a psych degree?"

"... he's actually..." Steve cleared his throat. "Sam is actually... Bucky's therapist." 

Darcy pursed her lips. It made sense. The arm, and the obvious PTSD. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out," she tried to sound less 'duh' but it came out harsher than she intended. She looked back at the boiling water.

Steve reached for another tomato. "That's where he is tonight. With Sam. They actually went back to the city. James has to pass the psych eval before he can return to active duty."

... oh. 

Darcy doesn't say anything. She grabs a spoon and stirs up the pasta.

"... I just kind of wish I knew what they were saying." 

When he was too quiet, Darcy turned back to him. Steve had stopped chopping, the knife in one hand, tomato in the other, and he wasn't quite looking in her direction. He was staring at something in the distance; his brows were drawn together, tightly, and his jaw was clenched as tightly as his fingers around the handle. Every fiber of his being was stiff, and rigid, and just so uncomfortable. 

Darcy hates this look. She hates it more than sad Steve. Helpless Steve is unbearable and makes her chest hurt. 

"... he used to tell me everything," there's an absent-minded tone in his voice. "And since the... accident--no." He corrects himself. "Since the  ambush ... he only talks to Sam--and that's because he  has  to talk to Sam--and he talks to you so easily, and I just wish... I don't know how to get him to open up the way he used to. I haven't changed. I'm here."

And suddenly he laughed--and awkward, too-loud chuckle in the quiet room--and shook his head, and put on a brave face before turning back to the counter. "Sorry, I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you. Sorry." He started slicing the tomato. 

Darcy shook her head sharply and stepped up to him. "Steve, don't--" 

She was about to say 'don't shut off like that'--but she was the stupid idiot that put her hand on his bicep, the hand with the knife, and it slipped in his fingers mid-chop when she touched him and then she saw red. 

"Holy  fucking  crap!" Darcy screeched. 

Steve cursed much more subtly and looked at his finger. "Darce, I didn't lose a finger--"

She tugged at his shirt and pushed him back towards the kitchen table before rushing to the sink, grabbing a clean, wet towel and rushing back to him. Steve sat on the edge of the table with a huff, and wanted to tell her she was overreacting, but there was no stopping her. Darcy cursed herself, called herself a variety of creative insults, as she took his hand in hers and wiped his hand--

And he was right. He didn't lose a finger. He was fine. Darcy stared wide-eyed at his flawless hands and back at the knife and the tomato.... and the pool of red juice it sat in. 

"Oh, for fucks sake," she muttered, staring skyward. Of course she overreacted. 

Thankfully, Steve gave her a wry smile. "Don't worry about it." 

But she was still shaking, the adrenaline running strong from the shock of something being wrong. Darcy leaned one hand back on the counter, closing her eyes, shaking her head as she took a few deep breathes. Steve, not in any kind of rush, just sat still. 

They stayed quiet, the only sound in the room the bubbling pasta and the sauce simmering on the stovetop. Steve's breathing was deep, but soft. And Darcy was trying to get back to her train of thought.

"I know it probably doesn't feel this way," she spoke softly when she finally collected herself and gathered the courage to say what she was about to say. "But no one will tell you that you're doing anything wrong, Steve." 

Steve sighed and didn't exactly roll his eyes, but the tone was enough. Darcy opened her eyes and saw him avoiding her gaze--and it was frustrating, him dismissing the notion. In a bold move, she put her hands along his jaw, giving Steve a gentle push. She was done chickening out--she wanted to look him in the eye when she said this. 

"You're so sweet, and so kind. And you've been so nice to me, the random girl that showed up at your birthday party uninvited"--that earned her a soft chuckle--"and you've given me a place I can run away to when things get too tough next door. Hell, I  love  coming over here, even if there isn't anything that I'm running away from," Darcy's hands slid down and rested on his shoulders, and she gave him a gentle shake. "Bucky knows that you're here. He'll come around. I mean... shit, Steve," she was exasperated by now, searching for the words. "Who  wouldn't come back to a guy like you?" 

She really wished she had phrased it different, wished she hadn't been so passionate or invested--because Steve raised a brow at her. Those baby blues had been so sad a second ago, and now they were looking hopeful. An inspiring speech from her, indeed--and then he looked confused. 

And Darcy could feel her cheeks flushing--because she probably spoke too openly, probably hinted that she was crushing too hard on him--and the worst part is her smile was slipping and she couldn't keep it up. Her hands slid from him and fell to her sides. The longer Steve stared at her, the harder his stare became; looking deeper, looking for what he thought might be there, and if he waited long enough, Darcy would certainly show it because she was just in the mood for letting allllll of her emotions come out on display today, right? 

Darcy was exposed. And she couldn't look away from him. 

When did the room get this hot and muggy. 

Turn around. Go back to the stove. Make a joke. Quote some dumb movie. Steve's in love with his best friend he doesn't care if you have a crush on him--

And suddenly Steve is reaching his hand up and his thumb brushes over her bottom lip. 

Darcy's entire chest clenches and her jaw drops enough that her lips part. 

Steve is staring so intensely at her bottom lip that's she's surprised it doesn't fall off. 

And he leans forward, and kisses her. 

 

\-----------

 

Oh, it's been way too long since Steve's done this. 

He's so out of practice--at least, with women. He's had plenty of practice with Bucky. 

Bucky likes it when Steve licks his bottom lip, and if Steve presses closer and curls his tongue up into his mouth? That's earns him Bucky's moan. Bucky likes it hard and deep from the beginning--he doesn't like soft, easy kisses, not very often. He likes it when Steve wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him close. Bucky says it makes him feel small--and he always sighs in Steve's ear, always arches into him when he does it. 

With Darcy, Steve has to work at finding what makes her body speak to him. 

Don't get him wrong, he's more than willing to put in the work. It's just nerve-wracking having to learn someone new. 

At first he keeps his mouth closed. God, her lips are pillowy soft. He knew that, of course, when she kissed his cheek on his birthday, but to have them under his own was a different experience. 

Steve pulled back to take a breath, his eyes shut as he revelled in the sensation. Darcy took a deep, sharp breathe--he probably caught her off guard--but before any doubt could come to him, she shifted her hands from his shoulders up behind his neck, pulling him back down for more. Steve slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close, pulling her between his legs, pressing her chest to him as he tasted her better.

Her nipples were already hard through her bra and her shirt. He could  feel  them. 

Bucky was all hard lines and heat. But Darcy was warmth, curves and comfort--and his hands want to take all of her. He's touching everywhere he can, holding her in his arms, feeling her arch into him. 

Steve stood up straight without letting her go, arching her back and taking a chance to delve into her mouth as he bent over her. He licked along her and that earned him a  whimper . It was soft and he almost didn't hear it, but what he caught sent a chill down his spine. 

He needed to hear that again. 

Steve dipped down and cupped Darcy behind her legs, pulling her up against him and off her feet. Darcy squeaked against his mouth and clung to him as Steve turned them around and put Darcy on the table. His hands squeezed her hips and ran over her ass. 

She moaned for him. 

Good. This was  great.

Steve slid the hand up her ass and under her shirt. It was all about pulling at clothes now, and they were both in a rush. Darcy was pulling at his shirt and Steve pulled back momentarily to yank it off his head. Darcy let out a strangled laugh as this was her first sight of his bare skin, and her hands went to his abs. Steve paused momentarily as her nails dragged over his skin--Bucky was so used to his physique that Steve forgot about the affect he had. And Darcy's awe made his skin feel too tight for his body. 

He tucked his fingers under her chin, pulled her attention back before her took her mouth again, sipping and biting at her bottom lip. Darcy whimpered against his mouth again, her hands reaching and pulling desperately at him, getting him closer. 

Before he knew it, Steve had slid his hand between their bodies, unbuttoned her shorts, and slipped his hand into her panties. And Darcy pushed her hips forward, arched into his touch, and when his fingers slipped over her lips, she was  soaked  for him. 

He slipped between her folds and Darcy whined into his mouth. 

This was it. When she said all of those things about him--things he never knew she thought about him, and he had been holding back from making the move because he was so sure she didn't want him that way. But she admitted it, plain as day. Now he just wanted to make her fall apart in his arms over and over and over again. 

 

\--------------

 

Holy fuck fuckity fucking fuck what the fuck was happening. 

So far this was the shortest time Darcy had ever spent making out with someone but it certainly didn't look like they were stopping anytime soon. Which was good because Darcy needed more time to figure out how the  hell  this was happening. 

Steve  started kissing her . 

Steve wasn't just kissing her for the hell of it either--he was making a real effort. Actually, it was more than that; his hands brushed over her skin, reaching for the spots that made her respond and bend into him. Steve was treating her with a reverence Darcy has never known before. 

... Steve was supposed to be in love with his best friend. 

Steve was supposed to be... gay. 

Darcy was so utterly wrong and she was such a dumbass for listening to Tawnia, letting her thoughts come into her head and take over her natural instincts--instincts that told her that  there was nothing wrong  and she needed to  stop reading into things . 

But that's not important--Steve was licking into her mouth and he was pulling at her nipples and had a hand in her shorts. 

Him pulling her up was  hot  as hell. No one has ever picked her up before, and the raw show of power--while still handing her gently--did her in. And he found that out pretty quick too, when his hand slipped between and he found her wet folds. 

Darcy whined when his thick, calloused finger pressed against her clit. Steve pulled her mouth away to kiss along her cheek, over her eyelid, and whispered, hoarsely, " Darcy ." 

Never stop saying my name. Never pull your hands away. Dear god, just don't stop doing what you're doing. 

But Darce was too flabbergasted to form coherent words. 

He kept fingering her with sure, firm strokes, over and over her clit--after a few motions he slid down and pushed his finger inside of her while he thumbed her clit. Darcy bit her bottom lip tight to stifle a moan. There was no reason for this to feel so good. Yes, it had been many moons since someone had twixt her nethers, but  jesus  Steve was like a sex-wizard or something!

Or maybe... she was just so hung up on him. Way too hung up on him. 

Steve pulled back to tug her shirt off over her head, and he didn't even give her boring white bra a second look, he was too busy licking down her jaw and suckling at her neck, and Darcy gripped his shoulders, brushed her hands over his pecs and  oh god those abs,  she didn't know what to touch but she needed to hold onto something, she was getting too close--

\--the timer on the stove went off. Loudly. The pasta was done. 

Steve groaned near her ear, cursing softly, resting his head on her shoulder as he collects himself enough before he has to go turn the stove off. And Darcy opened her eyes. She stared across the room at the diced vegetables, and the tea towel, and the dinner she was helping him make, dinner for him and Bucky. And their shirts thrown into the corner. 

"I kissed Bucky." Her voice breaks halfway through her confession. 

Steve raises his head from her shoulder and Darcy feels her chest clench again. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, that bottom lip swollen and red, kiss bitten. 

He  wanted  her and it was written all over his face and it makes her desperate to squeeze her thighs together.  


Until he blinked a few times and asked, "What?" 

Oh. Right. ...  fuck . 

Darcy's lip trembled. "I-I kissed Bucky. Last night. In the car." 

She was expecting his face to fall, waiting for him to step back from her, ask her to leave, say this was a mistake--she steeled herself for the worst--

She was in no way prepared for Steve to look so calm, almost amused, and chuckle, "Oh. Right. That." 

And then he leaned in for another kiss.

And now she tilted her head, leaned away from him and asked, " What? "

Steve swallowed hard and the smile left his face pretty quickly. Oh shit. 

That's when the back door opened, and James started hollering about something cooking in the kitchen. Duke woke from the hollering and began barking up a storm, running out to greet his owners. James ran his fingers through the dog's fur before he turned the corner towards the kitchen, saw Darcy with her legs spread, Steve's hand down her shorts, their shirts on the ground. 

James stopped in his tracks.   


The stupid stove-top timer was still beeping incessantly. 


End file.
